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No. 308 


A FOOL’S YEAR 





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THE LJ*RA«Y OF 
eO^lGRESS, 
Two CoPlM hECEfvEO 

JAN. 28 t902 

COf^KHJMT ENTRV 

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OLASiJ CU XXc No. 

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COHY B. 


Copyright, 1901, by 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Alt rights reserved 


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A FOOL’S YEAR 




CHAPTER I 

A HOUSE was on fire. 

The flames dancing up to the sky lit up a goodly 
pile, with a long stone front broken by bow-windows, 
terraces, balustrades, statues, and other decorations 
of a large house. Inside, one’s imagination saw a 
great store of pictures, tapestry, valuables of every 
kind, to whose salvation a large household was 
presumably devoting anxious thought. The fire was 
at present confined to a circular one-storied erection 
at the extreme end of the house, but it was blazing 
fiercely, and the flames were being driven towards 
the main building by a steady wind, so that there 
was every reason to expect a generous conflagra- 
tion. 

But whether the household was abed, or merry- 
making, or absent, the fire was receiving very inade- 
quate attention. Only an old man, an old woman, 
and a young man were circling round it, the youth 
with an antiquated and leaky hose and the other two 
with buckets of water ; the united effect of their 
efforts being very much what would result from the 
occasional tipping of a wine-glass of water into a 
colliery furnace. 

At last the woman appeared to realize this, for 
she cried out : “ Indeed, sir, you must send for the 


I 


2 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


fire-engines. Bob must run into Weston.” To which 
apparently obvious suggestion the young man an- 
swered in somewhat remarkable fashion : “ My good 
Mrs. Coggins,” he said, “ the men would want at 
least ten shillings each. Let it burn.” 

So far from being at all surprised at this answer, 
or seeming in any way bewildered because the owner 
of a stately mansion refused to expend a few 
pounds in saving it from destruction, Mrs. Coggins 
nodded her head, as if it were she who had made 
rather an absurd suggestion and had been recalled 
to regions of common sense by an obvious answer. 
But as they spoke the flames suddenly dropped, flared 
up again, and dropped lower, like a fire of tarred 
sticks Which is burning out; and the old man — Mr. 
Coggins, in fact — who had just come up with another 
bucket of water, raised his smoke-grimed face to the 
roof and said with a sigh of satisfaction : 

“ We’re getting it under, sir, I do believe.” 

The youth smiled broadly, turning away, however, 
to hide his amusement, and then re-turning to express 
warm commendation of the skill with which Mr. Cog- 
gins flung the water through a burnt-out window on 
to a red-hot glowing mass inside. The flames had 
now dropped below the level of the walls, and the 
three persons consulted together as to whether they 
could carry the hose up to a window looking down 
on to the burning annex, and play on it from above. 
With some difficulty this was managed, and presently 
it became apparent that the danger was over. 

Owners of big country houses in England have a 
well-recognised position among the pauper class ; and 
even under the May moonlight it was clear that the 
owner of this house must have an assured ten thousand 
a year, and nothing else on which to spend it, or be 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


3 


a struggling and hopelessly impecunious man. Mr. 
Geoffrey Stewart had not an assured ten thousand a 
year; Mr. Stewart had not assuredly or nominally 
one thousand a year, or half that sum. To be brief, 
he had no assured permanent income at all, and the 
only money which he had to spend was a sum of 
^250 a year paid to him by a relative — his nearest 
relative in fact — who had been Secretary of State for 
India in the last Government, and to whom Stewart 
was private secretary. The relation was a prominent 
politician, so that when his party was out of office, 
as at present, he was still able to find work for Mr. 
Stewart, who lived on the salary of this post, econo- 
mizing in every direction and hoping vaguely for 
better times. He had free quarters in his chiefs house 
while Parliament was sitting, and being a jovial, good- 
tempered youth, quick of brain and contentedly ready 
to be amused, his holiday time did not cost him much. 
There is to-day a plethora of millionaires unable to 
extract the slightest pleasure from their millions and 
truly and sincerely thankful to any one who will spend 
their money for them and look pleased at the result. 
It is not every one who can enjoy another man’s good 
things; the enjoyment of a motor-car, yacht, or pheas- 
ant preserve being spoilt to a large portion of mankind 
by the knowledge that somebody else is paying the 
wages of the chauffeur, sailors, or gamekeepers, and 
that in the very last resort and court of appeal this 
other person can enforce his own whim; but a man 
who can enjoy yachts will probably be able to com- 
mand a large choice of them and practically take them 
whither he pleases. The general vague discontent of 
the millionaire is mostly due to the fact that he can- 
not compel anybody to enjoy his possessions, or to 
use them good-humouredly, or do anything but 


4 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


covet and desire the money which he has paid for 
them. 

There were periods in his life, however, when 
Geoffrey Stewart took his poverty very hardly. At 
his father’s death the family lawyers, after settling up 
the affairs of that elderly, gay-hearted spendthrift, 
promised Geoffrey eight or nine hundred a year for 
the rest of his life, or more if times grew better. 
But the estimate was an inaccurate one to begin with, 
and times grew worse, and in the first year of 
Geoffrey’s tenure of the estate Messrs. Milton and 
Barker found that when all the interest on mortgages 
and loans was paid, and legal charges of the most 
moderate extent allowed for, they had exactly £24.14.0 
left to hand their young client. Next year there was 
a deficit of about this amount ; applications were made 
to the courts to sell heirlooms and portions of the 
land, and the sales when made just paid debts and 
charges, so that Lord St. Ives, the next of kin above 
mentioned, threatened in Geoffrey’s own interest to op- 
pose another proposed sale. Attempts to let the house 
merely wasted more guineas ; it was as bare inside as 
a hospital “ got up ” in modern sanitary fashion, and 
not half so clean. On a cold or rainy day you sat 
in most of the rooms with an overcoat and an umbrella ; 
to walk up the great staircase was a feat like the 
ascent of a crevassed and crumbling glacier, for which 
the cautious man asked to be roped. Now and again 
a crash echoed through the empty, silent house, and 
if any one cared to investigate the cause she — for it 
was mostly Mrs. Coggins who went to look — found 
that some mouldy picture had tumbled from the rot- 
ting walls. The grounds were an unpicturesque 
wilderness, grass-grown paths wandering among bare 
flower-beds and empty, broken conservatories. The 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


5 


present condition of the stables was unknown to mortal 
man, for since a day five years ago, when an astonished 
and wrathful house-agent had gone through them, 
asking at every step what on earth the owner meant 
by suggesting to him to let such a disreputable ruin, 
no human being had looked inside them. 

Geoffrey Stewart was never, it is true, tempted 
by any offer to buy or rent his home, but if such a 
transaction had become practicable he would not have 
been over-ready to complete it. The only expenses 
connected with living here was a sum of £40 a year, 
which he paid to Mr. and Mrs. Coggins for taking 
such care of himself and the house as they could, 
and for managing a small but profitable collection of 
pigs and poultry and two cows. On these, with some 
assistance from a gun and a fishing-rod, the house- 
hold managed to exist, the host even inviting an 
occasional friend to stay with him. Mr. Stewart had 
selected with care two sitting-rooms and two bed- 
rooms and two other rooms for his household, all of 
which had till now justified his choice by remaining 
weather-proof; and for nearly a year past life at Ince 
Weston, alike in the proprietor’s absence and pres- 
ence, had gone on in fairly easy fashion. 

But the fire was a serious business. The roof 
and part of a wall of the conservatory had fallen in, 
leaving the little building a broken, blackened mass, 
conspicuous and unsightly. Repair was out of the 
question, except in such slight fashion as could be 
effected for a pound. There were men in the village 
sufficiently friendly to Geoffrey to give him their 
services for nothing; but he was loath to ask such 
help, and in any case he could not take bricks and 
mortar as a gift from any of them. A project for 
buying some gray paint, and painting the broken wall 


6 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


himself, and then asking a young artist friend to super- 
add a life-size picture of ivy hanging over it, floated 
for a time in his mind ; viewed from some distance 
it might appear a spirited representation of a ruined 
wing and suggest past conflicts with Cromwell’s 
armies; but paint, he reflected, cost money. Again, 
the wall might be levelled all round by being pulled 
down to the height reached by the fire, and the bricks 
so removed might be sold for a sufficient sum to 
pay for the work. The circular conservatory after 
such an operation would look rather like a gasometer, 
but it would at least appear to be the result of design, 
not of accident. What, however, would the law courts 
say to such an attempt to sell an entailed house 
piecemeal ? 

With a heavy heart the owner of Ince Weston 
awoke next morning, unhappy sums of compound 
addition and subtraction (in shillings and pence only) 
filling his mind throughout his toilet. Of recent 
months such hopeless calculations had come oftener, 
stayed longer, more hardly been banished. When 
dressed he descended a small side staircase (which was 
of stone and could be descended fearlessly if one kept 
to the wall side) into the picture-gallery, a great room 
a hundred feet long, red with memories of duels, riots, 
murder, and every species of crime. Whether the 
Stewarts of the good old times had been more than 
ordinarily criminal, or whether their great deeds in 
that direction had merely been told oftener and gained 
more in repetition than those of their neighbours, cer- 
tain it was that the history of Ince Weston was 
a peculiarly unedifying one. This picture-gallery 
opened into the hall, a great cube of sixty feet, 
unbroken save by a gallery on one side and the 
crevassed staircase in an adjacent corner. The effect 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


7 


on the ordinary man when he came into it was not 
so much imposing as startling, giving him the impres- 
sion of having suddenly stepped out of doors. 

Mr. Stewart made his way across the hall to a 
side-door giving access to a terrace from which the 
burnt wing would be visible. He could not begin 
breakfast without seeing how it looked in the morn- 
ing, and being now a little more cheerful, he hoped 
that his fears of the previous night would prove 
to be exaggerated. They proved to be nothing of 
the kind; on the contrary, he had underestimated the 
effect of the fire, and it was with a horrible shock 
that the blackened mass struck his eye, conspicuous, 
hideous, impossible to hide. It glared into his eyes 
directly he opened the door, jumping into his vision 
and dominating it completely, like a great splash of 
ink on a pale-coloured wall-paper. The poor young- 
ster groaned aloud, and stood there for a moment 
staring at the horrid object, incapable of thought or 
motion, till Coggins, who had apparently come out 
on a similar errand, turned the corner of the house, 
and, approaching Stew^art, remarked with the consola- 
tory frankness of his kind : ‘‘ It do be a bad sight, 
surely. And it’s got to stay like that, too, for what 
I can make out.” With a petulant exclamation of 
anger Geoffrey turned away ; but Mr. Coggins had 
another bit of good news in store : “ And I can tell 
’ee,” he said, ‘‘ from the Broad Walk it looks just 
awful.” 

It had occurred to Geoffrey last night that from 
the avenue called the Broad Walk, which was the main 
approach to the house, the burnt building would be 
invisible, so the information now conveyed by Mr. 
Coggins was the last straw. Furious and hatless, he 
strode away to verify the statement. At the top of 


8 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


the Broad Walk was an archway, which his mind 
had pictured as a possible screen; an inscription, now: 
ironical enough, was writ across it: 

“ Through this wide-opening gate 

None come too early, none return too late.” 

Geoffrey almost ran down the avenue, and then 
turned to look. Coggins’s description was indeed 
correct; the wing looked “just awful,” an eyesore, an 
outrage on the landscape. It seemed in truth the 
culminating point of a long, wide tale of ruin. On 
Geoffrey’s right as he stood here was a tumble-down, 
unoccupied lodge ; behind him were some rusty, half- 
open gates ; in front of him was the grass-grown, weed- 
covered avenue ; on his left were the ruins of a building 
once called “ The Widowe’s House,” and still bearing 
an inscription over its front: 

“ Is’t strange a prophet’s widowe poore should be? 

If strange, then is the Scripture strange to thee.” 

An old, charitable institution, founded and main- 
tained by the Stewart family for the reception of seven 
•\yidows, had once stood here, and in the parish church 
was a pew which had been the widows’ property, 
and over which was written a list of qualifications 
for residence here : 

“There shall be no gadders, gossupers, tattlers, tale- 
bearers, nor given to reproachful words nor abusers of 
any. And noe man may be lodged in any of ye said 
houses, nor anye beare, ale or wyne be found in anye 
of ye said houses.” 

Ruins in ruins, poverty’s last last rags of tatters, 
the widest desolation of decay, lay round him, bounded 
everywhere by a hopeless circle of poverty. The 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


9 


young man could do nothing with his home, and, so 
far as he could see, never would be able to do anything 
with it. He could earn an income in his present busi- 
ness of politics, but that was all; legacies of a few 
hundred pounds, such as he might expect from this 
or that kindly relation, would scarce tidy the garden 
paths; thousands might go in repairing the mere 
structure of the house without complete assurance 
that it was safe. It was a dreary and hopeless specta- 
cle, this once famous and stately pile — desolate and 
hopeless — and Geoffrey loved it with all the love of 
his soul. How much he loved it he realized now for 
the first time — now when the May morning sun shone 
on its marred beauty. He stood and looked at it with 
some such feeling as a man might have while looking 
at a favourite child maimed past hope of cure ; then, 
with bitter, reproachful eyes fixed always on the blot, 
he went back to the house. 

The breakfast table looked almost luxurious : the 
cloth was clean, the silver old and bright, the bacon 
was thinly cut and lightly fried, a cold pigeon-pie 
was well stuffed with jelly and egg and spice; but 
sorrow does not give an appetite, and Mr. Stewart 
eyed his breakfast as a man eyes a dusty road which 
duty compels him to traverse. A little bundle of 
letters lay on the table, all of which seemed to annoy 
him; they were not bills, since debt was altogether 
too dangerous a matter for him to trifle with ; but 
as everything hurts a hurt person, so each of his 
letters this morning appeared to contain some small 
matter to sting or worry him. The last which he 
opened was from his kinsman and political chief. 
Lord St. Ives wrote that he was going on Monday 
to Newmarket for the Second Spring Meeting; that 
he wanted while there to prepare a speech which he 


lO 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


had to make at Cambridge on the following Friday, 
and that he would be glad if Geoffrey could join 
him. Lady St. Ives, added the marquis, was coming 
down too, and both girls, and a few friends. 

Mr. Stewart heaved a little sigh of relief and took 
some pigeon-pie with a more cheerful expression of 
countenance. He had come here for a week, but 
did not want to stay any longer now, and was already 
debating what excuse he could give to write and put 
off a friend whom he had invited over for two days. 
St. Ives’s request suited him very well. The sun shone 
again ; the room was not beginning to get damp as 
he had fancied when first he entered it this morning; 
the view out of the windows was rather pretty — the 
long slope of park-land studded with great beeches 
and oaks, beyond whose newly green branches lay 
the Wash, a great plain of shining silver laughing 
in the morning’s eye. Well, life is not over nor hope 
dead when one is thirty, and sound in mind and body, 
and in receipt of £250 a year. 


CHAPTER II 


Robert Hamer Vernon, now Marquis of St, 
Ives, was born to be a happy, contented man, a 
bachelor, an indolent, light-hearted maker of jests, 
leader of cliques, an inventor of new dishes and new 
fashions, who would sit down and vegetate intellectu- 
ally, never quite awake, but always ready to be so if 
he saw anything to make it worth his while. For 
twenty-four years of his life he had so passed his 
time; then one morning his valet had come in to call 
him, and a fateful conversation had taken place. 

The valet announced: “Nine o’clock, sir; a cold, 
foggy morning, sir, and a thaw just beginning.” 

“ Then,” was the natural answer, “ go away and 
call me at nine o’clock to-morrow morning.” 

^^But, sir ” 

“ At nine o’clock to-morrow morning,” repeated 
Mr. Robert Vernon drowsily, preparing to go to 
sleep again. 

“ A gentleman has just come from the Marquis 
of St. Ives, sir, on urgent business.” 

“ Well, tell him to come back at nine o’clock 
to-morrow morning.” 

The valet made a fearful noise with a bath and a 
soap-dish which must have roused Morpheus himself, 
and then announced : “ Lord Lydford died last night, 
sir, and the marquis would be glad if you would 
come to Cornwall House as soon as possible.” 


II 


12 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Lord Lydford was the only son of the Marquis 
of St. Ives, to whose title and estates Robert Vernon, 
his eldest nephew, was next heir. The young man 
started up in bed, his face expressing the profoundest 
indignation and disgust. “ It’s not true, Allen,” he 
said ; “ you’re only saying it to wake me up.” 

“ The gentleman who brought the message — his 
lordship’s secretary, I think, sir — is waiting in the 
dining-room. Will you see him?” asked the valet. 

“ Oh, bring him in ! ” said the young man, lying 
tiown again with a weary sigh ; “ and, Allen, just go 
out and get me the Times and the Sporting Life for 
every day last year, and all the Blue-books which 
were published last session, and Justin McCarthy’s 
History of Our Own Times, and Green’s History of 
the English People — the short one, Allen — and any- 
thing else in that line which occurs to you. My uncle 
may marry again, but if he doesn’t, there’s a cruel 
life coming for me.” 

Lord St. Ives did not marry again ; he died two 
years later, and Robert came forward ruefully to make 
the best, as he said, of his hereditary afflictions. “ Cas- 
tles, politics, race-horses, advowsons of livings, and 
half a county full of tenants,” he groaned to his chum, 
Charles Rivers, “ and I take them all on my shoulders 
for no payment but my board and lodging. Merely 
because my ancestors have meddled in all the affairs 
of church, state, and turf till it has become an incurable 
habit in the family, I must prepare to do the same, 
must stand up and offer myself ‘ to be let unfurnished ’ 
to any people who choose to hire me and use me. 
Hang it, man, one might as well be a king! Why 
couldn’t they take my cousin William, who would have 
liked such a place, and suited it. Look at him, a 
good man always lamenting that he has only ten 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


13 


commandments to keep ; a man with a great all- 
comprehending intellect, a massive brow, a gigantic 
brain — you can hear his mind working. Fancy how 
the descriptive reporters of the Daily Mail would love 
him. Instead,! am put up on this platform, a laughing- 
stock, an hereditary manager of racing-studs and cabi- 
nets, equally indifferent as to whether my horse wins 
the St. Leger or my party wins the election. I don’t 
spend one hour a week on my own pleasure or busi- 
ness. All my work, dear friend, is family work, and 
when I do it I feel myself only an agent of my ancestors 
and cousins and descendants. The Marquis of St. 
Ives goes to bed and sleeps, and refreshes the family 
brain. He eats too much, and vexes the family 
stomach, and gets the family gout. I feel a mere 
driving-band on a machine in all the affairs of my 
life except the making of an epigram. That wants 
pen, ink, paper, and an idea, and the first three may 
be one’s very own. The rest of the work is all done, 
not by me but by the head of the Vernon family. 
Confound the Vernon family for a pack of meddling, 
conceited humbugs ! ” 

“ And then look at the life at home,” went on my 
lord, tipping his hat to the regulation grumbling posi- 
tion at the far back of his head, and dropping his 
lower jaw, and clasping his hands at the back of his 
neck so that his face-profile and hat and hands made 
a sort of circle expressing boredom in every segment. 

Hang it, Charlie, just look at it. Am I allowed to 
keep a neat bachelor flat, and live in it quietly and 
decently? Not a bit of it. A family council chooses 
a wife for me ; one of them proposes to her for me ; 
another selects a day for us to be married; another 
buys rings and necklaces in my name and gives them 
to her ; another chooses a church and bridesmaids. 


H 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


refurnishes all my houses and arranges the settlements ; 
and at last they send up a message by Allen with the 
hot water one morning to say that Tm to be married 
at midday, and one of ’em ’ll come and fetch me at 
11:30 sharp. Why couldn’t they let me alone ? Eileen 
was a very nice girl, but I didn’t want to marry her.” 

The position of men like Lord St. Ives is, however, 
a sort of profession in England, with status, entrance- 
qualifications, duties, and occupations as well recog- 
nised as those of a lawyer or clergyman, and this 
particular member of the profession found his niche 
in it and stood there as comfortably as the large 
majority of his fellows. The great racing-stud, man- 
aged on costly, old-fashioned lines, continued to supply 
winners of Derbies, St. Legers, Ascot cups, and handi- 
caps; the politician made weighty (and sometimes 
witty) speeches, and took his place in a Conservative 
Government and afterward in the Cabinet in due course. 
Friendly tenants on the well-managed estates wel- 
comed their landlord’s marriage, the birth of an heir, 
the coming of age of the heir, and the wedding of a 
daughter, with a cordial kindness which grew almost 
to affection with the passing years. The politician 
was trusted — with reservations; the man himself was 
well liked on the whole, publicly and privately, and 
was not unhappy. His ideal life — to sit in a group 
of clubmen making jokes and handing round the hat 
for a laugh — might have given him moments of keener 
pleasure, but it would have left, he told himself con- 
tentedly, longer intervals for despondency. 

There was one matter, however, for which the 
family council had made no provision beforehand, 
though when it came under notice they showed every 
inclination to discuss it and offer advice and help. 
But St. Ives rather unexpectedly intimated a desire 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


15 


for silence, and used his eyes and eyebrows in such 
a novel and intimidating fashion when his desire was 
disregarded, that the council were reduced to delicate 
hints and the most carefully veiled suggestions. Even 
these were received with a steady stare followed by 
a slight raising of the eyebrows, which, coming from 
the most easy-going gossip in the kingdom, were too 
alarming to be encountered. The family tea-tables 
sounded and resounded with stories of Lady Helen 
Merivale, but inside Cornwall House the stories were 
not repeated. As one began to climb Campden Hill 
her name was delicately suggested, not openly stated, 
as the heroine of the new scandal ; at the entrance to 
the grounds the scandal-tale grew vague even in 
its details, and at the turn in the avenue which brought 
Cornwall House into view, it ceased abruptly. 

When the young Dudley Merivale left Oxford — 
not quite of his own free-will — and came to settle in 
London with a party of congenial friends who were 
all resolved, in their own picturesque language, to 
paint the town red, several good-natured ladies at- 
tempted to check and reform certain members of the 
band. These ladies, many of them mothers of sons 
and daughters, and therefore, presumably, good judges, 
agreed that marriage was the best cure for the young 
man’s malady; and especially in the case of young 
Merivale, the grand-nephew and heir of the Duke of 
Dorset, they were so kind-hearted as to propose that 
their own daughters should effect the cure. One of 
these physicians. Lady St. Ives, was successful in her 
benevolent plans, whereat the others were surprisingly 
and unaccountably displeased. An engagement was 
shortly announced “ between the Lady Helen Vernon, 
eldest daughter of the Marquis of St. Ives, and the 


i6 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


Hon. Dudley Merivale, eldest son of the late Lord 
George Merivale/’ and — but the announcement did 
not add this — one of the most irreclaimably disreputa- 
ble youths to be found in Great Britain. St. Ives 
remonstrated with his wife ; and Maura, the younger 
sister, remonstrated with Helen, but neither of them 
very strongly. St. Ives held that marriages were made 
by women — which may or may not be a variant on 
the more popular belief — and were no concern of 
his, while Maura could not restrain some sympathetic 
approval of her sister’s victory over two detested rival 
competitors for the Merivale alliance. A marriage 
followed as soon as Mr. Merivale had had time to 
pay his debts, settle with certain more exacting lady 
creditors, compromise some threatened proceedings 
in the divorce court, and make other necessary prepara- 
tions ; and for two years the pair lived together without 
any serious disagreement. A sickly child was born 
and was christened Angela and managed to live on ; 
then a son was born and died after a few days ; and 
tempers grew sharp and a tragedy began ; a dull, com- 
monplace tragedy, dull as a lingering disease, com- 
monplace as death. A dozen new lovers, with an 
intrigue for each, were awarded to the lady every 
season by her delighted friends, and Merivale threat- 
ened a divorce ; Helen came to her father with tales 
of disreputable persons brought by Merivale to stay 
with her, of gibes and insults flung at her before 
these women, of cruelty to Angela, and once of a 
scene in which — or in the narrative of which — knives 
played a part. She would have a separation, she said, 
and St. Ives went to a consultation of family lawyers 
with the Duke of Dorset and a friend. The consulta- 
tion ended in a quarrel between the two elder men, 
Dorset’s allegations against Helen and St. Ives’s 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


17 


accusations of Helen’s husband succeeding one another 
like the “ rises ” of poker players, so that the arbitrator 
and lawyers agreed that if a separation were to take 
place it had better be privately arranged by other 
friends. Matters drifted on, however; some sort of 
reconciliation even being effected occasionally for short 
periods. Another son was born, and lived, after which 
all talk of divorce was peremptorily silenced by the 
grandparents ; and the sickly, feeble little creature who 
was one day to be. Duke of Dorset produced a far- 
reaching family settlement which caused the retirement 
of several fascinating ladies to their original occupa- 
tions in minor theatres and dancing-halls, and the 
banishment of several “ Berties,” “ Algys,” and 
‘‘ Jacks ” to the boudoirs of less consequential ladies 
than Lady Helen Merivale. An armed and awesome 
truce reigned now between the mighty families of 
Dorset and St. Ives — from the heads who now saluted 
one another in club halls with carefully weighed 
remarks about politics, down to the page-boys of 
third cousins who brought notes to their mistresses’ 
houses and exchanged the succulent bull’s-eye. 

Helen still, however, spent more than half the 
year with her own family ; she rarely spoke about any 
of her husband’s possessions without one or two un- 
complimentary epithets, and rather bewildered stran- 
gers by using the word ‘"our” when speaking of a horse, 
house, or other possession of Lord St. Ives. One of 
her admirers was alienated forever because she had 
replied to a question of his about the Cambridgeshire : 
“ Our horse is a certainty.” Now, the Duke of Dorset 
had a horse in the Cambridgeshire, and the young 
man backed him accordingly for a large sum, and 
the horse finished last ; whereas Lord St. Ives’s horse 
won, as Helen had told — or meant to tell — the youth 


i8 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


that he would ; and the youth, when explanations fol- 
lowed, was exceedingly wrathful, so that he gave vent 
to many fine and noble sentiments, expressed in very 
emphatic language, about the propriety of a wife 
identifying herself with all her husband’s interests. 
And he was no longer a lover coming four times a 
week to the little boudoir in Park Street with silver 
curios and jewelled trifles for Lady Helen, chocolate 
for Angela, and vows of love till death. 

The party now staying at Bury Hill House, Lord 
St. Ives’s residence at Newmarket, included Helen, 
as well as one or two other guests who were not 
enthusiastic sporting folk. St. Ives himself had ac- 
cepted his race-horses and Newmarket house as he had 
accepted his Conservative politics, and as an American 
accepts his municipal rulers, not because they are de- 
sirable but because they are there. The doings of the 
creatures did not greatly interest him except in certain 
races, like the Derby or St. Leger, when he confessed 
to some excitement. The stud cost him a certain 
sum of money every year which he would have liked 
to spend elsewhere ; and every third year or so a long 
sequence of unusually stupid blunders, called by the 
managers bad luck, left him with rather a large deficit 
to make good ; but, as he neither betted nor paid large 
fees to jockeys, nor bought yearlings at Doncaster for 
fancy and farcical prices, the deficit never grew unman- 
ageable. Latterly he had become rather restless under 
certain attacks on the turf made by men for whose opin- 
ion he had much public and some private respect ; but 
an equal number of valued friends assured him that his 
uneasiness was without cause, and the subject inter- 
ested him so little that he did not care to go more 
deeply into it. In many of the most strongly worded 
attacks his own stable was among those held up as mod- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


19 


els of honesty and decorum, and that was sufficient for 
him. Turf stories and gossip amused him for an 
occasional half hour; and, if some guest insisted on 
talking it for a whole evening, well. Lord St. Ives 
reflected that doubtless he himself bored various com- 
panions in similar fashion, and he listened and answered 
with gentle toleration. This man, he said to himself, 
was interested to know which of twenty-two horses 
could gallop fastest across the flat at Newmarket; the 
other as to which of two unveracious gentlemen at 
the hustings could induce most voters to believe his 
promises. St. Ives, you will perceive, was not a man 
of enthusiasms ; no sacred fire burnt in his soul ; the 
‘‘ joyful emotion ” without which Empedocles and St. 
Paul regard all moral action as imperfect, was lacking 
in his actions ; he believed something, but not much ; 
he hoped for something, but scarcely knew what ; and 
he feared nothing and shirked nothing. So far as a 
man can become a machine for doing his duty day 
by day, St. Ives was such a machine. 

Geoffrey Stewart arrived at Bury Hill House on 
Monday afternoon and was welcomed with unfeigned 
pleasure by everybody there. He was about the only 
person on earth for whom St. Ives could really be 
said to have any affection ; Lady St. Ives liked him 
because when he was in the house she heard all political 
and other news without the trouble of reading the 
papers, and also because Helen’s troubles and griev- 
ances were all poured into his ears instead of into hers ; 
the two girls liked to have him near them because, 
for fifteen years, they had trusted to his judgment 
about most matters in this world and the next, and 
they did not care for change. He was always right, 
they said; and indeed, by combined good luck and 


20 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


good judgment, his prophecies mostly did come true 
and his advice turn out to be sound. Geoffrey’s pov- 
erty had been a family joke of such long standing 
that they could freely pay for him whenever he went 
about with them, and as an escort he was safe, discreet, 
omniscient, amusing, and untiring. Many were the 
condolences offered to him when the story of the 
fire was told, and for a short time St. Ives wondered 
if he might break his strict rule of offering no money 
for expenditure on Ince Weston. The house, he had 
always and justly argued, must either be kept con- 
tinually in reasonable repair by him, which would cost 
far more money than he could spare, or else it must 
be allowed to decay steadily and without check. It 
was really useless tO repair one pillar and let another 
fall down, to allow one wall to rot away and paint and 
prop up another. He might have regarded this case 
as an exception if he had chanced to possess a spare 
£ 200 ; but spare hundreds are not a usual feature in 
the budgets of English land-owners. He decided to 
say nothing about it for the present, but if the three- 
year-old who was to run in the Two Thousand on 
Wednesday was the flying wonder which Eliott, his 
trainer, represented him to be, and was going to 
sweep the board,” something might be done. 

The healthy life which he led at Newmarket made 
Bury Hill House acceptable to St. Ives at certain 
periods of the year. To be out of doors and riding 
along the race-course gallops by six o’clock, with 
the morning mists being driven away before a rising 
sea wind, and miles of table-land and growing blue and 
clear in the May morning sun, was a brain tonic which 
suited him very well. “ And I feel a thrill of new 
pleasure,” he said to a guest, as they cantered up the 
Cambridge Hill on Tuesday morning, every time I 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


21 


come out to see one of these trial gallops, the same 
awed excitement as if I were coming out to meet 
some accomplices and commit a burglary or murder. 
Eliott tells me to meet him behind the ditch at six 
o’clock. Can you imagine a more thrilling appoint- 
ment? We meet, we search the neighbourhood anx- 
iously for touts — for spies, in fact. Then we signal 
to furtive-looking youths who come forward with 
four horses mysteriously sheeted and hooded, and I 
feel as if I were about to elope with some ravishing 
beauty, or carry despatches of life-and-death import 
to a distant army. The horses are stripped, their 
weights are whispered to me, mysterious horsemen 
come from round corners and out of mists, and mount 
the four animals, who forthwith dash forward at a 
mad gallop which we watch with held-in breath and 
field-glasses glued to our starting eyes. Then the 
jockeys come back and murmur to us the result of 
the race, and where and how easily the winner won ; 
and I go away bearing the guilty secret and envying 
the criminal classes from the bottom of my soul. If 
I break into your rooms one night, Mr. Hopper, 
don’t be too hard on me. These secret rendezvous 
with Eliott are giving me a taste for crime, the result 
of which no man can foresee.” 

“ I’ll come down with a pistol just to round off 
the business properly,” said Mr. Hopper, and then 
we’ll have a quiet little supper and go out together 
and do a burglary at your house. I don’t myself hold 
with burglary as a way of getting a man’s money. 
Poker’s better, and a wheat corner’s best. But as an 
evening’s diversion it’s as good as most things.” 


CHAPTER III 


Among Lord St. Ives’s guests at Newmarket Mr. 
Cyrus Hopper was held in some reverence. Despise 
the feeling as you may — and closely analyzed, it is not 
a respectable one — you cannot meet a man worth 
thirty million pounds without a certain sensation of 
awe and respect. The sensation may not be creditable, 
but it is justifiable. Here is a person with power to 
gratify very nearly any desire which an ordinary human 
being is capable of entertaining. If he likes you, for 
instance, he can, with very little assistance from your- 
self, buy you an earldom and glory and long life and 
long posthumous fame ; if he dislikes you, and cares 
to do so, he can ruin you, and with management kill 
you. Then consider him in a wider sphere : he can 
buy counties, towns, country and London palaces, 
racing-studs, rivers, harbours, and whole industries ; 
an^ the wretched folk into whose contented lives he 
plunges his golden spoon must submit themselves 
to be stirred about as he pleases. He is omnipotent 
without being omniscient, holding all the powers of 
an Indian god or an English land-owner without any 
of the restraints which are imposed on these latter 
by society and tradition and experience. Furthermore, 
if he is a stranger to European life and thought, or 
has passed much of his time apart from it (as he 
probably has, since the making of such fortunes is a 
business mostly confined to Africa and America), his 


22 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


23 


power will be used autocratically, blunderingly, disas- 
trously. But the power is there ; and the man, public 
nuisance as he may be, is, I maintain, a very proper 
object of awe and respect. 

Cyrus was not a nice person; his habits of mind 
and body were not nice, his language was not nice, 
his financial transactions were not nice. He had 
amassed his fortune between the ages of fifteen and 
forty; since then he had tried social life in Paris, and 
found that the Faubourg St. Germain, when he had 
bought an entrance into it, was dull ; then he went 
through seasons in Rome and on the Riviera, and 
found that there were too many men of his own sort 
trying for the same object. At last, when his railway 
in America was well established at the highest point 
of prosperity, he decided to come to England, buy 
race-horses and yachts, lavish money in charity, and 
generally adopt all the well-worn, infallible methods of 
making friends with English folk. He had succeeded 
up to the usual point, and as usual was not quite satis- 
fied. People invited him to their houses, sometimes be- 
cause they wanted something from him, more often still 
as they would have invited a spiritualistic medium or a 
great conjuror, because they were a little uncertain 
what he would do or say next, and rather enjoyed 
the uncertainty. Cyrus saw through them, knew their 
mind as well, to use his own words, as if he had been 
down there with a candle; and he raged inwardly, 
wondering what he could do next. Marriage? His 
first wife had good-naturedly died, leaving only two 
daughters, of whom he saw nothing, and there was 
nothing to prevent him from marrying one of his 
new acquaintances. But there was a horrible finality 
about marriage; it behooved a man to look round 
him long and choose warily before planting himself 


24 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


forever, even in the fairest and most exclusive of 
these social flower-gardens. At present he had some 
slight acquaintance with everybody in London who 
was worth knowing ; he was a popular if not favourite 
guest everywhere, a gold-winged bachelor-bee buzzing 
round all flowers which had honey for him. His 
impoverished friends had a certain feeling of financial 
stability in his presence, believing, not unjustly, that 
in any dire extremity the man would help them to 
any reasonable extent. He told their story after- 
ward, it is true, sparing no names or details, so that 
you borrowed £500 from him, so to speak, at a dinner- 
table in the presence of all your friends and enemies; 
but if you could not borrow a like sum from a gentle- 
man and must have the sum, why, Mr. Hopper was 
there and ready to lend it. 

Cyrus Hopper — he owned the usual middle initial 
but only used it in business documents — had a great 
admiration for St. Ives’s two daughters. He espoused 
the cause of the elder in a manner which had the 
wholesome result of making her occasionally ashamed 
of herself, offering a hundred petty insults and annoy- 
ances to the Dorset family, and retailing them to 
Helen afterward with great pride. Conceiving the 
English sportsman as a man of business who races 
to win money, he made a great point of his horses 
being run against those of the Duke of Dorset, and 
beating them, and he received news of any such victory 
with childish glee which he expected Helen to share. 
She told him in some boredom, on one of these occa- 
sions, that the duke did not bet, and knew less and 
cared less even than Lord St. Ives about the pro- 
ceedings of his race-horses, but Cyrus merely laughed. 
“ You don’t know us men, my lady,” he said, rubbing 
his hands gleefully ; “ we plan our little deals by our- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


25 


selves ; when we get left we don’t storm around and 
tell every one about it, but it hurts us right down 
inside. Ah, you don’t know how it hurts ! And we’ll 
make this duke of yours sore inside like that, so’s 
he’ll howl and stamp and curse inside. P’raps you 
think he ain’t cursin’ softly around now? Ah, that’s 
just where you’re mistaken! Likely he’s not heard 
of it yet; but when he does! — You’d be glad to see 
him then, my lady.” 

It was impossible to help laughing, and Hopper 
went away more firmly convinced than before that 
he had found the right way to Lady Helen’s good 
graces, and more resolved than ever to beat every 
horse from the Dorset stable which ventured to show 
its head on a race-course. Conviction and resolve 
had not much harm in them to the ordinary eye. St. 
Ives, Helen, Maura, and several other friends were 
merely amused, or, at worst, a little bored. They 
became regular readers of racing intelligence, laughing 
when an entry of one of the duke’s horses was accom- 
panied, as it invariably was now, by that of two or 
three horses in Mr. Hopper’s name. There was, how- 
ever, more than one friend of the St. Ives family, 
Geoffrey Stewart among them, who disliked the 
American’s proceedings, and thought and said that 
something unpleasant would happen unless a sum- 
mary stop was put to them. The man, said Geof- 
frey, had not a common elementary notion of hon- 
esty, and could not understand that there was any 
difference between the conduct of racing in New 
York, Newmarket, and Buenos Ayres. If he es- 
pecially wanted a certain horse to win a race, 
his first notion was to bribe somebody, his second 
to buy any horse which had a chance of beating his 
selection; only in the last resort, and after much per- 


26 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


suasion and explanation, did it occur to him to com- 
pete honestly. 

Mr. Stewart was not greatly pleased to find the 
American millionaire staying at Bury Hill House ; 
it was an advance in intimacy which he had not 
expected from St. Ives, and for a moment he wondered 
whether there could be any reason for it. Was it 
possible that Lady St. Ives meant the man to marry 
her younger daughter ? Had Helen begun to counte- 
nance his silly attempts to annoy the Duke of Dorset ? 
Both ideas were possible but unpleasing. Had he 
been lending money to the Vernon boys, who in return 
had procured him an invitation here? The young- 
sters’ allowances were not large, but Geoffrey felt 
pretty certain that he would have heard something 
about it before the pressure of debt brought them to 
such a pass. Most likely Hopper had invited himself, 
and St. Ives had laughed, and the man had come. A 
good many people lunched and dined and stayed with 
the marquis on a similar invitation. Hopper knew 
the young secretary’s mistrust and mislike, and depre- 
cated it by every means in his power ; he had meas- 
ured Geoffrey’s influence in this house quite accurately, 
and was aware who would go to the wall in a contest 
there. If any hope offered itself of buying Mr. Stew- 
art’s friendship he would not stick at a price. 

For, in fact, whether Lady St. Ives was aware of 
it and countenancing it or not, the possibility of a 
marriage with Lady Maura Vernon was a matter of 
daily consideration with Mr. Hopper. He was not 
old — a man of forty-six is not old even in America 
— and his family could not be regarded as an encum- 
brance, for they were on the other side of the Atlantic, 
and he meant them to stay there. In truth, when he 
came to think of it, no one in England knew of their 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


27 


existence, and there was no reason why they ever 
should know. The two girls should receive handsome 
fortunes, marry whom they pleased, and vanish from 
his life. Lady Maura Vernon was not in love with 
him, so far as he knew, or he with her; but Cyrus 
had heard a good many discussions for and against 
certain engagements without much reference to either 
person being in love with the other ; and in the matter 
of more solid advantages he felt that he could hold 
his own. He had faith, too, in Helen’s influence, 
which he must surely have gained by his devoted atten- 
tion to her interests. Mr. Hopper, in fact, felt some- 
times so secure of his prize that he was hardly con- 
cerned to ask for it. 

Having written some letters on Tuesday morning, 
Helen roamed about the house in search of compan- 
ions for a gossip. Lord St. Ives, Stewart, Hopper, 
and Mrs. Anstruther were discovered in the rose- 
garden, and she joined them, Hopper welcoming her 
into the group with elaborate and noisy delight. 

“ We were talking of you. Lady Helen,” he began ; 
“ on my honour, I believe I have been talking 
about you to some one all morning. Do you ever 
get tired of being talked about, of your dresses being 
described, your houses, children, hats, and dinners 
being written about in half the papers of England 
and the States ? ” 

“ Very,” said the woman untruthfully, the literature 
in question being the chief joy of her life. “ Are we 
all going racing to-day? And do we lunch here or 
in the stands ? ” 

“ Mr. Hopper wants us all to lunch with him in 
the stands every day ; he has been preparing surprise 
parties for us,” said St. Ives, in a tone of voice which 
he did his best to lash into grateful gaiety. “ It is 


28 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


very good of him. Whenever the racing gets dull 
we’ll come back to lunch.” Privately, St. Ives recog- 
nised that his week’s amusement was ruined. There 
would be five courses of elaborate Parisian novelties 
every day, with champagne, coffee, liqueurs, rows with 
the waiters, and violent protests from the host, if 
any one tried to go away and look at a race. But 
Hopper had brought down a chef, ordered the meals, 
made a great point of his surprise being welcomed ; it 
was less trouble to welcome than refuse it. 

“ Who’s riding your horse in the Two Thousand 
to-morrow, Mr. Hopper? ” asked Helen when she had 
accepted an impressive invitation to join the lunch- 
party. 

“ Oh, wait ; wait before you all begin ! ” said Mrs. 
Anstruther, holding up her hands in affected terror. 

Some one must tell me plainly and clearly about 
the race to-morrow. You’ve all got horses in it ex- 
cept me, and I want to know about them, so that I 
mayn’t congratulate the wrong person. You tell 
me, Mr. Stewart; you are such a nice, sane, clear 
person.” 

“ Midnight, who is going to win, belongs to Lord 
St. Ives,” was the brief and rather bored reply. 
“ Kansas belongs to Mr. Hopper, and will be second ; 
Fritter belongs to your cousin, and will be third ; and 
there will be six others who will be anywhere. One 
of them, called Chancellor, belongs, by the way, to 
the Duke of Dorset.” 

“ What do you yourself think of his chance, Mr. 
Stewart?” asked Hopper. 

“Jerry Cater, who usually rides him, is engaged; 
Mr. Islan has first claim on Jerry, so the duke must 
have young Jackson to "ride Chancellor ; and no motive- 
power on earth, except Jerry Cater, could get Chan- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


29 


cellor first past any post — except in small pieces out of 
a gun. I should say he had no chance at all. Your 
Kansas might beat us.” 

“ No, sir ; make your mind easy about him ; he 
sha’n’t interfere with our good host. Fll see to 
that. Now I shall go on, and superintend the little 
snack which you are all so kind as to share with 
me at one o’clock.” 

The man went away, nodding and smiling in mys- 
terious fashion. Mrs. Anstruther went in to dress, 
and St. Ives asked : “ Do I gather that he means to 
have Kansas pulled so that I may win? ” 

“ That,” said Stewart very seriously, ‘‘ is exactly 
what he does mean.” 

The marquis stared, laughed, looked vexed, and 
laughed again. “We must give him credit for more 
sense than to talk about it if he means to do it,” he 
said ; “ but, hang it, what a bore the sordid side of 
racing is ! I hear at the Jockey Club chaps like 
Dillon and Cartwright getting very indignant over 
racing rascality, but they talk about it as if it were 
rather exciting. Exciting! It’s the dullest form of 
knavery I know. I never heard or read or imagined 
a story of a turf-fraud which wouldn’t draw tears of 
boredom from a marble image of Patience. A horse, 
a jockey, and a bet — the stupidest animal, the dullest 
man, and the silliest transaction which Providence ever 
designed. How on earth could anything exciting 
result from them? I don’t mind seeing a race; it 
doesn’t exactly excite me to frenzy, but failing any 
other better amusement for an afternoon, I don’t mind 
seeing six or seven races. I have no moral objection 
to betting, and should probably bet if I could afford 
it, which I can’t. But when a man comes here and 
talks bets, and thinks them all day, and calculates 
3 


30 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


what he’ll do with the money if he wins, and how 
he’ll pay it if he doesn’t, and whether he can swindle 
without being found out, and whether some jockey 
or trainer or owner has swindled or is swindling or 
will swindle some other jockey or trainer or owner — 
why, damn that man! Let him come near me at his 
peril. I don’t mind death in any reasonable shape, but 
I will not be bored to death by a professional racing- 
fiend.” 

St. Ives moved away as he finished speaking, and 
Geoffrey and Helen, left together, looked after him 
with a smile. “ I wish father had one amusement in 
the world,” said the woman. “ He says he amused 
himself for the first twenty-four years of his life, and 
must work for the next thirty, and then take ten 
years’ holiday again, and then be Prime Minister till 
he dies.” 

“ How he will hate the holiday time,” said Geoffrey, 
“ and want you to help him through it ! How are 
you getting on, Helen? Is Angela here? And do 
you know if Merivale is coming down for the meeting? 
I haven’t seen any of you for nearly a month.” 

“ Angela comes on Friday afternoon, and we are all 
very well, thank you. I am dreadfully sorry about 
this fire. Will the repairs be a serious matter?” 

“ Not at all,” said Stewart grimly. ‘‘ They would 
be if they were going to be done; but they aren’t. 
When bits come off my house they stay off ; no one 
tries to put them back.” 

“ Poor Geoffrey ; poor, dear old boy ! I do wish 
some one would leave you a fortune. You couldn’t 
make one, could you ? ” 

“ Too late to begin. The inspiration which ends 
in making a million hardly ever comes to a man after 
twenty-five. Diamonds, India-rubber tires, linotype 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


31 


printing, new pills, halfpenny papers — these are the 
great ideas which come to us in youth ; they are the 
natural successors of pirate-ships, buried treasure, and 
robber-bands. At thirty it is too late to begin novelty- 
hunting. One quibbles about the honesty of each 
new road to fortune, cannot face felony without qualms, 
and must drop into old police-patrolled grooves, where 
one’s course is clearly marked and well stocked with 
bread and butter and plain roast beef. There is no 
fortune for me, Helen.” 

“ Geoffrey, I have been thinking so much about 
you lately, and it seems to me ” — the woman turned 
her eyes to the young man’s face with a glow of 
admiration and affection — “ it seems to me that you 
are one of the bravest men I ever met. You are 
bothered every hour of your life by your own affairs, 
and at the same time by father’s and ours’, and you 
never complain or quarrel or scold or even look glum. 
If I had to go without as many things in a year as 
you have to give up every day, there would be murder 
in Park Street. I do admire you.” 

Mr. Stewart looked at her in embarrassed surprise. 

You are talking a considerable lot of nonsense, 
Helen,” he said. ‘‘ What’s the object of it? ” 

She came a step nearer and put a hand on his 
arm ; her face was so close to his that he could feel 
her quick-coming breath on his cheek, and though 
there was a smile on her lips and a little mocking 
laugh in her voice, she could not impress him with 
the idea of mockery. 

“ I am only just telling you what I think of you,” 
she said. “ May one only do that when what one 
thinks is unpleasant? ” 

“ But we’ve known one another rather well for 
twenty years,” said the young man, laughing uneasily. 


32 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“Why do you suddenly begin to think all this 
about me ? ” 

“ Because I haven’t seen you for a month, and 
because I’ve wanted to see you twenty times in that 
month, and suddenly realized that whenever anything 
is wrong you are the only person who can put dt 
right. I’ve been dreadfully miserable. Don’t leave 
me alone for another month. You and Maura are 
the only friends I’ve got.” 

The introduction of Maura’s name into this out- 
break took away a vague sensation of fear which was 
forming in Geoffrey’s mind. His voice had only kindly 
pity in it as he asked : 

“ What’s been wrong? Tell me about two of the 
twenty catastrophes. Have you been quarrelling 
much ? ” 

“ Quarrelling ! ” echoed the other disdainfully. 
“ Do you suppose I should condescend to quarrel with 
him? I simply never speak. Last week he bothered 
me to come down to Brighton with him and bring 
Angela. I couldn’t think why he wanted me to come, 
or why he dragged us to the Metropole, which I hate, 
until the first evening at dinner he showed me that 
dancing woman who calls herself Tina Delile, and he 
wanted to introduce me to her, and roared with 
laughter when I got up and left the table. That is 
his idea of a joke, you know. I simply made Felton 
pack my things, got Angela out of bed, and we went 
back to London that evening. Was that a quarrel? 
And he told me afterward that this Delile woman 
had ^ wanted very much to be introduced to me and 
Angela, and was very disappointed at missing us.’ 
How can you talk of my quarrelling with a man 
like that? ” 

“ Poor Helen ! It is rough on you and the babe.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


33 


The anger and indignation left the woman’s face 
as quickly as they had flamed there, and she glanced 
at Stewart with suddenly quivering lips and eyes glazed 
with tears. He put a hand on hers, and the pity in 
his voice and touch were very real. But a few years 
ago and this woman had been the gayest and most 
careless among a thousand careless companions. Sick- 
ness, satiety, regret, had passed by and scarce let her 
see their flying shadows. Looking onward from 
Helen’s nursery years, spent happily amid fairy- 
books, dolls, paint-boxes, and indulgent teachers, to 
her marriage, Geoffrey could hardly remember one 
cloud which had rested for a whole day on this sunny 
life. Is it wrong, perchance, to allow to youth uncheck- 
ered happiness like this, to hide pain from its eyes, 
to bring pleasure to it with both hands, to send it into 
the world with eyes and ears closed to all but smiling 
faces and invitations to enjoyment? Mr. Stewart 
asked himself such questions when the poor little 
pleasure-boat, whose course he had watched with 
brotherly affection for so many years, was suddenly 
driven into stormy waters and tumbled about in them, 
angry, uncomprehending, helpless. Helen’s com- 
plaints and lamentations, which had worn out so many 
of her friends, were still rather tragic to him. His 
affection for the child, innocent girl, and suffering 
woman, had grown steadily with the years, and was 
not to be broken by a little querulous anger. Under 
the mask of this face, now too often drawn and lined 
with fretful complainings, he saw another, pink and 
smooth, with rosebud lips held up to be kissed good- 
morning ; the listless body, dragging about now in a 
weary search for forgetfulness, he had years ago held 
in his arms, to sleep or play, or listen to wondrous 
tales of a beloved fairyland. The past could not quite 


34 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


die for him ; his playmate’s tears still filled him with a 
rage of pity ; when she came to him with her tales- of 
sorrow his instinct was still to put a consolatory arm 
round her, and pour out unreasoning sympathy as 
to a hurt child. For a moment this afternoon some 
of her words had startled him; but his surprise was 
soon forgotten, and his office of consoler resumed. 


CHAPTER IV 


On Wednesday afternoon the Duke of Dorset’s 
colt, Chancellor, though deprived of the services of 
Jerry Cater, amazed and annoyed the racing world by 
an easy victory in the Two Thousand Guineas, beating 
the favourite Midnight by two lengths, and leaving 
the rest of the field nowhere. The Duke of Dorset 
laughed, the trainer shrugged his shoulders, Helen 
frowned, and St. Ives, suffering tortures of indigestion 
after a long and unwholesome lunch, wondered 
whether Midnight^ too, had eaten something which 
had disagreed with him, and whether a spoonful of 
the new digestive salt would have saved the situation. 
Mr. Hopper preserved an awful and mysterious silence 
until he was moved to speak by the appearance of 
young Merivale, who came up to his wife, saying: 
‘‘ Congratulate me, my dear ; I put a tenner on him 
at twenty-five to one, and have won £250. Like fifty 
for anything ? ” 

Is that all you’ve won ? ” asked Mr. Hopper with 
elaborate sarcasm. I’m sorry. They’ve left you 
out, I conclude? ” 

'' Eh ? What ? ” asked the young man in some 
bewilderment. ‘ Is that all,’ eh ? By George, some 
of you fellows wouldn’t be looking as glum as hearse- 
horses, as you are now, if you had picked up £250 
like that.” 

“ Some of us,” said Hopper sententiously, “ would 

35 


36 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


rather lose money honestly than — well, well, it’s no 
affair of mine.” 

“ Than win it dishonestly, eh ? ” Merivale laughed 
a laugh of genuine amusement. “ Has the governor 
been working a little ‘ ramp ’ and you’ve caught him 
out, eh? He’s a bad lot, the governor is, isn’t he? I 
say, old chap, don’t give him away to the stewards, 
will you ? Have mercy on an old and once respectable 
family. And I say, old fellow, one more word; a tip 
for you ; just a little tip. In this country we try to 
take a beating like gentlemen, and on my word it’s 
the best way — saves rows, worry, flurry, and all sorts 
of nuisances. Come and have a drink ? ” 

Hopper turned away in elaborately affected disgust, 
and Helen ran up to Geoffrey Stewart. “ These men 
are getting on my nerves,” she said. I am tired of 
Americans, and husbands, and race-horses. Can’t we 
go away somewhere out of sight and sound of all of 
them, or is that impossible in this place? Very soon 
there will be a fight in the bird-cage between that 
dreadful person Hopper, and Dudley, and a lot of 
jockeys.” 

** I’ll take you home, if you like,” Stewart answered. 

I always think, myself, that the small races after the 
big one of the day are as dull as having toothache 
when you are just through the crisis of small-pox. 
Or, I tell you what, let’s go and see Ross and amuse 
ourselves till dinner-time. He never says anything 
funny, but he laughs when I do, which is a good 
deal better.” 

The two left the course and walked across the 
grass towards the Criterion stands, still talking about 
all the inconvenient persons of whom Helen had been 
complaining. She was aware that Hopper was making 
her look ridiculous, and at this moment disliked him 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


37 


extremely. A millionaire lover has no particular 
advantages unless you are desperately poor, and she 
wanted nothing that his money could buy. He was 
only a unit in a train of admirers, without any very 
great influence in Helen’s world, and with no good 
looks or good jokes to recommend him. Of course 
the world knew that he was worth thirty millions, and 
talked about his friendship with her, and smiled, and 
shrugged its shoulders, and looked on curiously when 
Merivale and Hopper met. So far this was satis- 
factory; but a row between your husband and your 
lover is a stupid, out-of-date proceeding irreconcilable 
with the other business of a London summer. A 
whisper, a joke, and a newspaper paragraph were 
quite correct, but a quarrel was simply provincial. 

Stewart was nervous about the American for other 
reasons. Hopper had obviously been extremely angry 
about the victory of Chancellor in the Two Thousand, 
more particularly because the victory had been very 
easily gained and presaged another in the Derby. Now 
Hopper had made up his mind that Lord St. Ives’s 
horse Midnight should win the Derby, and no one 
could be in this man’s presence for an hour without 
seeing that he was a totally unscrupulous person who 
would swindle any man, and boast about it afterward, 
and never doubt for a minute about power to square 
any human being. Geoffrey was rather annoyed at 
the calm amusement with which St. Ives regarded the 
American’s proceedings, and the indifference with 
which Helen listened to his curiously dishonest sug- 
gestions. It was easy, of course, to see that no amount 
of argument could convince Hopper how immensely 
different were the conditions of racing in England and 
America. Just as I have known a man cross over to 
Argentina quite willing to go one better ” than any 


38 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


scamp of any nationality whom he found in the sporting 
society of that not over-nice country, but stand 
amazed, from beginning to end of his visit, at the 
tricks which were played on him, and come respectfully 
and regretfully to the conclusion that if he lived there 
for ten years he could never hope to understand the 
depths of his companions’ dishonesty ; so the ordinary 
American racing professional, coming to England, 
takes time to understand that sport in this country 
is not a business conducted by sharpers for the benefit 
of themselves and their brethren. Cyrus Hopper had 
not yet learned the lesson, as Geoffrey could see for 
himself, and as more than one American friend of his 
warned him ; and the St. Ives family stood some chance 
of becoming rather seriously compromised by their 
continued friendship with him. 

“Can’t you drop the man?” asked Stewart of 
Helen now, with much vexation in his voice ; “ he 
can’t interest you in the least. You’ve got a train 
of men hanging about after you which would stretch 
down Park Street. What do you want with this chap ? 
It doesn’t even annoy Merivale, and it does annoy 
everybody else to see you about with him.” 

“ He’s given you some very good lunches,” said 
the woman, rather pleased at this outbreak, “ and I 
like being near a millionaire. It’s like sitting in 
the sun.” 

“ Then get another of them. You know three 
English and eight American specimens who are all 
gentlemen; why can’t you send the other about his 
business?” 

“ He makes me laugh sometimes. He does hate 
Dudley and the poor old duke so poisonously, and he 
will spend such a lot of money and time on trying 
to spite them. He saves me a good deal of trouble. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


39 


you know. Besides, don’t you think he might as 
well marry Maura? It seems to be considered the 
duty of my sex as much as yours, nowadays, to bring 
as much money as possible into the country and keep 
it there. So all of us who import it from America 
are just doing our duty.” 

“ This one’s no good,” repeated Stewart doggedly. 
“ He can’t play the game ; he doesn’t know the rules, 
and wouldn’t care for them if he did. I wish you’d 
fire him out.” 

Helen made an impatient movement with her head 
and shoulders. “ He’s not nice,” she admitted ; “ you 
can’t expect everybody to ‘ play the game,’ as you 
call it, as nicely as you yourself would if you had a 
million a year and neither wife nor children to compli- 
cate matters. But none of the procession which, you 
say, stretches half down Park Street, makes love really 
nicely and comfortably. They bore one too much; 
they put a horrid hot hand on one’s arm, and try 
to stroke one’s hair, and unless I took a great deal of 
care, half a dozen of them would kiss me every time 
they met me. Indeed, it takes a month off my life 
to be left alone with a man like Cyrus Hopper for 
half an hour. The problem of how to dodge round 
a room, always keeping two chairs and six feet between 
myself and him, without his noticing that I am moving 
about at all, is the most wearing piece of exercise which 
I’m ever obliged to take. And if he suspects that I am 
dodging him he is delighted, and if he catches me 
I am — well, not delighted.” 

Stewart scowled, fidgeted with his hat, swore under 
his breath, and at last burst out in uncontrollable anger : 
“ I’ll horsewhip the fellow ; on my life I will. But 
it’s too bad of you, Helen. You allow you don’t want 
either him or his money ” 


40 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ I didn’t allow anything of the sort. In fact, 1 
do want him. On the whole, I rather like being chased 
about a room like that. To pass three or four hours 
every afternoon being hunted in and out among chairs 
is quite as interesting as to pass three or four days a 
week in Leicestershire hunting instead of being hunted. 
I understand now what people mean by saying that 
the fox likes it. Whenever I make a successful double 
round a table, and circle through a maze of chairs 
and palms and footstools, I understand how delighted 
the fox must feel in the middle of a run near Melton.” 

“ As you are a friend of mine and not a fox,” said 
Geoffrey very angrily, “ you can, perhaps, understand 
that I do not feel particularly delighted myself. You 
see, the hounds mostly succeed in catching their fox, 
and in this case the usual result would rather annoy 
me. But then I am a spectator of the hunt, and not 
in it.” 

“ Dear old boy, perhaps if you were, the fox 
wouldn’t run very fast or very far.” 

The uneasy feeling which had come into Geoffrey’s 
mind in the garden at Bury Hill House came back 
now with increased force. What on earth did this 
woman mean to say or suggest to him ? Did she wish 
to include him in the crowd of vapid, half-hearted 
admirers who filled her- drawing-room, and devised 
■entertainments for her, and ran her errands? His 
bewilderment turned suddenly into annoyance, and 
equally quickly she read the annoyance and an- 
swered it : 

“ You are so different from all the others, Geoffrey. 
Perhaps if you could be with me much more and 
help me much more, if you hadn’t all this stupid 
work to do, and weren’t obliged to be with my father 
and never see me except for a stray half hour once 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


41 


a week, I shouldn’t want any other help or amuse- 
ment. Angela and I could have you all to ourselves, 
and you should take us about everywhere and entertain 
us all day, and give us everything we wanted.” 

The sudden introduction of a child’s name into 
such a conversation has a tranquillizing effect on the 
mind of the scared man who has been called upon 
to play his part in it. According to the new light 
thus introduced, he is being invited apparently to 
sympathize with the family, not with the lady. He 
is not a lover, but a family councillor ; he is not risking 
a conflict with a justly wrathful husband, but is merely 
a friendly rival to the nurse, the companion, or the 
previous male or female confidante. Geoffrey was 
soothed accordingly by the 'introduction of Angela’s 
name, and again reproached himself inwardly for being 
such a coxcomb as to suppose that Lady Helen Meri- 
vale was making love to him. She had looked at him 
with affection and admiration in her eyes, but only, he 
said to himself, as she would have looked at Lord St. 
Ives if he had ever chanced to sympathize with her. 

The Vicar of St. Andrews, Newmarket, technically 
chaplain of a private chapel attached to the house of 
a famous racing lady, was at home, and assured Mr. 
Stewart and Lady Helen Merivale that he was delighted 
to see them ; his words, however, being but a nervous 
contradiction of his alarmed and troubled looks. A 
casual observer would have decided that a man less 
capable of dealing with the intricate problems of 
religion and morality presented by Newmarket could 
hardly be found ; but the casual observer would make 
a mistake. Mr. Ross succeeded in doing his work 
because he was too shy to make special moral laws 
for his parishioners, and on being confronted with 


42 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


their difficulties or iniquities was so flustered that 
he could think of nothing except the code of morals 
drawn up in the Bible. These laws he offered for 
the consideration of his clients, rather diffidently, but 
with considerably more assurance than he could have 
propounded any specially devised or modified doc- 
trines ; and the jockeys and stable-lads, who were mostly 
quite capable of making their own excuses, listened 
to, however much they disliked, this man who stood 
before them in his pulpit or his study and painted 
black black and white white, leaving the shading busi- 
ness to his audience. Ross, however, was deeply 
dissatisfied with his own work. Continually, when 
alone, he planned comforting words and kindly excus- 
ing speeches to be delivered to the next man who 
came to him for a consultation; but, unfortunately, 
when confronted with the sinner, his nervousness 
overcame him, and he blurted out condemnation and 
reprimand with an emphasis and plainness of speech 
for which he severely blamed himself. In the ordinary 
traffic of life, the lunch-party, the afternoon call, or the 
friendly supper at some trainer’s house after evening 
stables, he was no less shy and no less uncompro- 
mising. Now and then, in an agony of remorse for 
some speech which had hurt a well-meaning friend, 
he would fling all principle to the wind, and stammer 
out the most astonishing statements on the subject 
of betting or riding; and it is on record that having 
once spoken rather too severely to a delinquent about 
betting beyond his means, and being anxious to show 
that he was sufficiently liberal to tolerate moderate 
gambling, he pulled out a five-pound note and begged 
the erring trainer to invest it for him on a certain 
horse in the St. Leger if the trainer thought it “ a 
good thing.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


43 


Mr. Ross’s nervousness was more marked than 
usual this afternoon, and Lady Helen was not long 
in perceiving the cause. Her daughter was seated by 
the study table, and Ross was murmuring incoherent 
excuses for the small person’s appearance there. 

“ Mr. Merivale suggested to her to come here 
this afternoon,” he said hurriedly ; “ doubtless her 
father thought she would be better for some coun- 
try air,” 

“ Father turned me and Carson out of the house 
this morning,” said Angela, simply, “ before he came 
down to Newmarket; he said he wanted the house 
to himself for to-night and wouldn’t be bothered with 
us. I think he is going to have a big dinner-party. 
So when I found none of you were at Bury Hill 
House, of course I came here to stay with Mr. Ross.” 

“ I only wonder you honoured us with the first 
visit,” said her mother, laughing good-humouredly, 
for the friendship between Angela and the chaplain 
was a household joke. The two were equally shy 
and equally plain-spoken, and they had first made 
friends in mere pity for one another. Angela being the 
more self-possessed person of the two, and better 
trained in social tactics, had taken the blushing parson 
in charge at an afternoon party, and soothed his fears 
and provided him with food, finally inviting herself 
to call on him. Afterward at Newmarket she spent 
the greater part of her visit in his company. Neither 
host nor guest spoke much to one another or took 
much notice of one another, except to look up occa- 
sionally with a slow, grave smile. The parson sat 
at one end of the big study table writing letters or 
sermons ; the child sat at the other end, with her 
white, blue-veined small face bent over sheets of draw- 
ing-paper which she covered industriously with figures 


44 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


of angels. And one of the best sermons which Ross 
ever preached in his life was preached on a certain 
occasion when, in a fit of absent-mindedness, he left 
his own manuscript at home, and brought into church 
a sheet of Angela’s drawings. For a moment he 
looked slightly confused on being confronted with a 
large smudged sheet of paper with the text, “ He 
shall give his angels charge concerning thee,” and a 
variety of saints in different situations of awe-inspiring 
danger; but he gave out the text obediently, and for 
five minutes was almost eloquent on the subject sug- 
gested by it. 

‘‘ Dudley is getting unusually considerate,” said 
Helen to Stewart ; “ it is really most thoughtful of 
him to turn the baby out before he begins one of 
his drunken debauches. I wonder who’s coming, and 
how soon the house will be fit to go back to. His 
guests perform all the regulation feats of emptying 
champagne into the pianos, playing cricket with ink- 
bottles, drawing portraits on the wall with lumps of 
coal, and dancing on the dinner-table till all the china 
and glass are ground to powder.” 

Ross made nervous signs begging her to cease 
talking like this before the child. Helen laughed 
when she understood, and went on lightly: “We have 
all seen too much of that kind of thing to think any- 
thing of talking about it. Angela was very angry 
last time her father gave a dinner-party because one 
of his guests got her little set of Venetian tumblers 
and took shots at the clock with them. Look here, 
chicken, did you remember to tell Ellis to lock up 
my bed-room and boudoir and hide the keys? ” 

“ Nanna did it,” said the child, “ and we have 
brought the keys with us.” 

Lady Helen looked round with a glance of triumph 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


45 


at Ross’s horrified face and Geoffrey’s muttered anger. 
Such sensational moments pleased her thoroughly. 
Her imaginary grievances were ample compensation 
for her real ones. She loved to talk about them, 
to claim pity, to see the interchange of sympathetic 
glances among her audience, and to hear their mur- 
murs of indignation. For each new listener she had 
a special story; she studied her auditor for a few 
minutes and then, as a skilled hostess talks to the 
gourmand of her last menu at Paillard’s, or to the 
child-lover about some new baby prattle, or to the 
sportsman about the latest thing in pheasants’ food, 
so she invented and narrated any tale of sorrow which 
would touch that particular listener’s heart. The com- 
plete wreckage of the Park Street house would, she 
well knew, only draw a few polite words of sympathy 
from Mr. Ross ; but the breaking of Angela’s tumblers 
brought him heart and soul among her sympathizers. 

The child glanced up at Ross, half-expecting some 
words of pity, and yet knowing him well enough to 
be aware that he was not going to judge or condemn 
her father without hearing both sides of the story. 
The atmosphere of this house was so different from 
all the rest of Angela’s world that for the most part 
it simply puzzled her. When you are seven years 
old you do not apply such words as right and wrong 
to your ordinary home life; it is that your daily life 
and the others are just different. But Angela had 
her preferences, and they did not lie in the direction 
of her Park Street home. 


4 


chapter V 


Dudley Merivale went back to London that 
night, proposing, as his little daughter had said, to 
entertain a party of friends, whose character was the 
reverse of refined, to dinner that evening. Such an 
entertainment in his own house served the treble pur- 
pose of annoying his wife, saving himself the trouble 
of going out, and costing considerably less than such 
a proceeding at Richmond or a London restaurant. 
He was not the incurably vicious person which his 
wife painted to her friends ; few men are ; but when 
he wanted to annoy Helen, whom he detested with all 
the power of which his weak nature was capable, 
he went to lengths of which some of his rowdiest 
companions expressed disapproval. None of his male 
guests to-night, for instance, were at all pleased on 
discovering the class of entertainment to which they 
had been invited; they had no objection to a row, 
and were not unfamiliar with certain officials of the 
Empire and Alhambra popularly known as “ chuckers 
out '' ; but they had that sense of order which Aristotle 
declares to be the most primitive instinct of man, 
and Tina Delile playing hostess in Lady Helen's 
mediaeval drawing-room, while, for all they knew. Lady 
Helen herself was upstairs and liable at any moment 
to come down, violated all sense of order. Two of 
the young men, indeed, who were on calling terms 
with the St. Ives family, whispered together for a mo- 
46 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


47 


ment or two, and then took their departure with inco- 
herently muttered excuses, while Merivale shouted 
to them to come back, and Mademoiselle Delile threw 
sofa-cushions and photograph-frames after them in* 
derisive scorn. 

The party was crowded and rather noisy. Meri- 
vale, tired with his day’s racing, had soon had enough 
of it, and told his guests so in the frank manner which 
can be adopted towards such ladies. Unfortunately, 
they disagreed with him, and announced their intention 
of having a room cleared for dancing and supper made 
ready. Mademoiselle Delile, who had torn her dress 
while attempting the difficult feat of climbing on to 
a silver epergne on the dinner-table, and standing 
there, desired to mend it, found herself obliged to 
take it off on the landing and sit down on the stair- 
case with a needle and thread in a somewhat unusual 
costume for an evening party. A few other guests 
had arranged the drawing-room chairs and sofas as 
jumps round a circular race-course, and were running 
hurdle-races with much betting on the result. The 
young host wandered round in complete boredom, 
wondering whether he should offer his lady guests 
money to go away, or whether his friend Charlie 
Blacker, who was now sitting by Mademoiselle Delile’s 
side on the staircase helping her to mend her petti- 
coat, would take them all away to his rooms. Pres- 
ently he became aware of an uproar going on upstairs, 
which surpassed even the limits allowed by his wide 
and weak-minded tolerance, and through and above 
this uproar came the repeated ringing of the front-door 
bell. The footman who answered the front-door ush- 
ered in an Inspector of Police, who stated very politely 
that several complaints having reached him from 
adjoining houses in the course of the evening, he 


48 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


was obliged to come in now and ask the meaning of 
the prolonged disturbance. Merivale said wearily 
that he would go and see, and went upstairs to the 
second floor, where he found that all the furniture 
had been cleared out of one of the bed-rooms, and 
that a prize-flght was in progress between two famous 
light-weights who had done him the honour to dine 
with him. Various male admirers and backers of the 
two professional gentlemen were shouting out encour- 
agement and reproaches, while ladies in varying stages 
of undress and intoxication were seated on tables and 
on the mantel-piece, emitting long, piercing shrieks, 
whose exact signification, whether amusement, fear, 
or pleasure, was not quite clear to the casual spectator. 
At the moment of Merivale’s entrance one of the 
parties to the encounter appeared to be rather annoyed 
with the other, for he had just adopted the highly 
unprofessional proceeding of sitting on his prostrate 
opponent and trying to drive his thumb into his eye. 
The proceeding seemed, however, to be an ordinary 
one with this gentleman when he was vexed, for one 
or two of the spectators called out : “ He’s trying that 
old trick again ” ; and the vanquished fighting-man 
cried out lamentably : “ Don’t gouge my eyes out, 
Charlie ! ” 

Merivale came into the room at this moment, and 
looked about for a poker or some other means of 
persuading the two pugilists to separate, but while 
he stood there the Inspector of Police came in, saying 
angrily; “ A crowd is collecting in front of the house, 
Mr. Merivale ; you really must stop this.” Merivale 
suggested throwing all the ladies present out of the 
window, and approached the table apparently with 
some idea of carrying out his own suggestion ; but, 
just as he turned towards them, the redoubtable Charlie 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


49 


got complete control of his opponent’s arms, and set 
to work comfortably to drive his thumb into his eye. 
He had made some considerable advance in his task, 
to the accompaniment of screams of pain from his 
victim, before Mr. Inspector and two assistants could 
pull him off. In the middle of an uproar which might 
have been heard in Kensington, the policeman then 
asked whether the defeated and half-blinded pugilist 
would give his opponent in charge for assault; and, 
receiving a rapturous affirmative, he proceeded to 
arrest Mr. Charles Hedman, take the names and 
addresses of various persons whom he proposed to 
call as witnesses next morning, and remove his pris- 
oner to the nearest police-station. 

The young host then made a speech to the rest 
of his guests, which would have to be reproduced in 
these polite pages by a series of blanks and two or 
three adverbs. The substance of it was a request to 
all of them to clear out of the house immediately, 
and go back to the gutters whence they came, and 
stay there. The ladies and gentlemen present, how- 
ever, received the speech quite good-humouredly, and 
having walked, rolled, or fallen downstairs according 
to their several capabilities, were put into cabs and 
driven away. 

The tired servants went to bed, the delighted 
crowd outside departed well satisfied, the dripping of 
upset wine was the only sound heard in the sudden 
silence, and the little globes of electric light were 
growing pale in the dawn of morning. Merivale 
turned the lights out and opened the windows, the 
spring morning air which came in feeling quite cold to 
him, as it forced its way through the fumes of food and 
tobacco and brandy. The trees in the park, with their 
new spring greenery on, were rustling fitfully under the 


50 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


rising dawn wind, which brought breaths of scent from 
the newly planted wall-flowers and tulips and mignon- 
ette. Merivale looked round the room whose wreck- 
age appeared a hundred times more repulsive in this 
slowly brightening sunlight; he gave a little sullen 
laugh, and then thought of to-morrow’s police-court 
summons, and swore a little, and wondered how much 
money Teddy Hyde would take not to press the charge 
against Charles Hedman, and whether any part of 
the story would get into the papers. The latter specu- 
lation reminded him of his wife, and he swore again 
more bitterly than before. What did she mean by 
leaving him to find his amusement in such company? 
She had driven away all his friends, abusing him to 
them till no decent person would now speak to him. 
She herself could not spend a day in the house with 
him, or go through a meal in his company, without 
a perpetual string of insults, for which he would have 
willingly and repeatedly beaten her. He supposed 
vaguely that he was not very kind to her or the two 
children, and that he let her know too much about 
other establishments of his in difYerent parts of London, 
and the amusements which went on there ; but she 
was the sole cause of this debauchery, he told himself. 
If she had taken him in hand, separated him from all 
his disreputable companions, forced him to drink less 
and go more into decent houses and respectable com- 
pany, he would have been a different person, a man of 
note and influence in his world. He had brains and 
wit, he told himself, and only wanted some one to put 
him into the right path and drive him steadily along 
it with a tight rein and an occasional application of 
the whip. 

The lamentation was a commonplace one, and 
perhaps in this case not altogether untrue ; though 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


51 


why Helen, or any other woman, should devote her 
life to picking any man, witty or otherwise, out of 
a pig-sty, would not be at once apparent to the 
ordinary mind. Mr. Merivale did not, however, find 
that his consideration of all that his wife ought to 
have done for him, and all that she had failed to do, 
offered any particular consolation for the thought of 
what she and her father undoubtedly would do when 
they heard of this night’s work, and of the proceedings 
next morning in the neighbouring police-court. Teddy 
Hyde must be paid to withdraw from the prosecution, 
and if his eye had been badly hurt, it was likely that 
he would require to be paid a good deal. Mr. Meri- 
vale’s allowance from his uncle was a large one; but 
he was one of the large class of men who, however 
big their income may be in theory, never have more 
than five pounds in their pockets, and are in a perpetual 
condition of borrowing a few hundreds from lawyers, 
bankers, or friends. He had borrowed a good deal 
lately from all these persons, and was not at all sure 
where the money was to come from to pay Mr. Hyde, 
should he be so unreasonable as to demand a hundred 
pounds or more. The bookmaker from whom he had 
won money at Newmarket that afternoon would not 
pay till the following Monday. It was in a very un- 
happy frame of mind that the young man went at 
last to his bed-room in search of a few hours’ sleep. 

The half hour which he spent next morning with 
Mr. Hyde did not tend to make him more happy. 
The famous pugilist was in funds at the moment and 
did not want any more money, while, on the other 
hand, his eye was extremely painful and he did want 
revenge. The argument between Merivale and his 
late dinner-guest had resolved itself into a long out- 
pouring of lamentation from the latter and a series 


52 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


of ten-pound “ rises from the former, when the 
transaction was interrupted by a clock striking eleven, 
at which hour all the parties were due to appear at the 
police-court. With a sudden feeling of desperation 
Merivale declared that he would chance the affair 
becoming public, and would go to the court and 
damage Hyde's case as much as he possibly could. 

A rather large number of witnesses, however, whose 
testimony was much more clear and full and to the 
point than that of Mr. Merivale, appeared in court 
to bear witness to the assault committed by Mr. Charles 
Hedman, who was finally fined twenty-five pounds 
and costs, and left the court with a good many stains 
on his pugilistic character. Although Merivale was 
called upon to give evidence, and heard all the inci- 
dents of his dinner-party described by several witnesses 
in minute detail, he was rather relieved than otherwise 
by the morning’s proceedings. In the first place, he 
himself had escaped the payment of any money; and 
secondly, the whole affair had been conducted in 
such a small court, with such apparent privacy, that 
the idea of publicity had for the moment passed out 
of every one’s mind. Neither the principals nor their 
witnesses paid any attention to three or four men 
with note-books, who sat at a table in the court, pre- 
paring a description of Mr. Dudley Merivale’s evening 
party for the benefit of the United Kingdom of Great 
Britain and Ireland. 

The young man went away to lunch with his friend 
Blacker after the trial, and both agreed that all con- 
cerned had got off very easily, and that the English 
police-court system was an admirably managed affair. 
Charles Hedman, they agreed, ought to have been 
more severely punished for his brutality, and each 
youth described with a glow of virtuous indignation 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


53 


what he would have done to a person convicted of 
a nefarious attempt to gouge out his neighbour’s eye. 
Then they retired to separate chairs in the club 
smoking-room, and made up for last night’s loss 
of sleep. 

Lady Helen Merivale came home at six o’clock that 
afternoon, having a dinner engagement which she did 
not care to miss, even though it entailed taking her 
husband with her. The two drove out to dinner 
without speech or greeting of any description. Only 
once for a moment their minds seemed to be in brief 
sympathy, for they glanced out of the carriage window 
at the contents-bills of the evening papers, all of which 
seemed to make a feature of the same item of news. 
“Disgraceful Scene at a West End House; Police- 
Court Proceedings To-day,” covered half of one of the 
green posters of the Westminster Gazette, and every 
other paper down to the Echo reproduced the story 
in different words. Dudley Merivale, who had heard 
rumours at his club of the breakdown of a Derby 
favourite, and had been looking out for intelligence 
of it, leaned back in his seat with his interest in the 
evening papers entirely gone for the moment. 

For the moment it went, and then came back with 
sudden horrid terror. Where was the West End house ? 
What was the scene referred to? Were the police- 
court proceedings which had taken place to-day in 
any way similar to his own? Was it conceivable — ? 
Stopping the carriage opposite the next newspaper 
shop he sent the footman for some newspapers, scarcely 
hearing his wife’s angry statement that they were 
already twenty minutes late for dinner, entirely through 
his fault, and she would not go to the house at all 
if they were to be any later. With his face growing 
deadly white, and a horrible sick breathlessness, he 


54 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


tore open the three papers for which he had sent 
and read one account after another of the proceedings 
at his own house. They occupied a column in the 
Westminster Gazette, two columns in the Evening 
News, and two and a half columns in the Star. In 
the last two papers the magistrate’s speech denouncing 
modern rowdyism, comparing it to the ancient practice 
of wrenching knockers off doors and putting out 
street lamps, and expressing his determination to put 
down modern rowdyism as his predecessors had put 
down the other forms of it, was given verbatim ; while 
the Police Inspector’s description of the house at the 
moment of his entry was liberally sprinkled with head- 
lines in capital letters and punctuated throughout with 
the words “ Laughter ” and “ Much Laughter.” Meri- 
vale finished his reading of the third narrative just 
as his carriage drew up at the door of the house in 
Carlton House Terrace, where he and Helen were 
going to dine. 

He sat perfectly still for a moment looking at his 
wife, while the footman held open the carriage-door. 
The front door of the house had been opened too, and 
a line of servants were standing waiting inside. Two 
men in ragged clothes holding a little child between 
them were coming up the Duke of York’s steps, and, 
in the wandering, hap-hazard fashion of such moments, 
Merivale returned their glances of interest, and won- 
dered intently whether they had ever appeared in the 
police-courts and seen their names in the papers after- 
ward, and what they thought, and what their friends 
thought, and what the child thought, and whether it 
was etiquette under such circumstances to go out to 
dinner or supper as if nothing had happened. Should 
he send the footman to ask them ? It was with a slight 
smile at this last thought that he turned his face to 


A FOOL’S YEAR 55 

his wife and said in a stammering whisper : “ I don’t 
think I’d go in to dinner there, if I were you.” 

Helen looked at him in alarm. She had seen him 
the worse for drink often enough to know that he 
was not drunk now, and her fear was as vague as it 
was profound. Making up her mind at last that he 
was trying to be funny, and seeing the servants begin- 
ning to look surprised, she angrily told him to get 
out or to let her pass. 

For answer he gave her one of the evening papers, 
telling her with a sullen laugh that she had better 
read that first. As she took the paper out of his hand 
he pulled to the door of the carriage and said to the 
footman : “ Home at once ; tell Wills to drive fast.” 
As the carriage turned away he saw the two men and 
the little child stopping to look and pointing at him. 
They were better off than he was, he said to himself ; 
if one of their wives passed any unfavourable criticism 
on a report such as that which Helen was now reading, 
she would probably be silenced by means which he 
had not the courage to adopt. He laughed to himself 
again at the thought, and as he was looking full at 
the little child just then she answered with a broad 
smile, so that as the carriage turned the corner into 
Waterloo Place he looked out of the window and 
nodded to her and smiled back. Then he turned 
round to see how his wife was taking the news. 

She simply had not understood a word of it, and 
her first scared impression that her husband was going 
mad was becoming confirmed by his extraordinary 
proceeding in taking her home suddenly for no reason 
at all, and giving her what appeared to be the account 
of a prize-fight to read on the way. She had not caught 
sight of his name in the report, or the name of the 
house where the fight took place, and she was paying 


56 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


no attention at all to a story which had come, she 
vaguely supposed, from some public-house in Lime- 
house or Whitechapel. When she looked round at 
Merivale it was with eyes full of “fear, but only of 
fear lest he should break out into more eccentricities. 

“ Well, what do you think of it? ” he asked. 

The Wests will be very angry. If you have had 
enough of this foolery, would you have any objection 
to driving back to Carlton House Terrace and trying 
to behave yourself? We shall be half an hour late; 
but ” 

“ Do you mean,’^ he asked, staring, “ that you want 
to go back there after reading that paper ? ” 

She stared back at him, turning the paper over 
and over with disgusted fingers, and wondering 
whether it would be safer to stop the carriage and 
get into a hansom by herself, or whether it would 
provoke a row in the street. “ I gather,” she said 
very coldly, “ that some friends of yours have been 
fighting, and that one of them has been injured. I 
daresay I ought to be sorry, but in point of fact I 
am perfectly indifferent, and should be equally indiffer- 
ent if he had been killed. Now may we go back, 
please ? ” 

“ You have missed one or two points in the story,” 
he said, laughing very nervously. “ Have the West- 
minster: it’s clearer print, and puts the case in less 
scientific language, which you may understand better. 
Haven’t you even grasped that the affair took place 
at our house last night? ” 

“Took — took place at — !” She snatched the 
Westminster Gazette out of his hand and re-read the 
story, her eyes dilating with anger, and passionate 
exclamations of disgust breaking from her every few 
seconds. The printed words danced and flared before 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


57 


her eyes; her whole body was shaking with rage, so 
that she could scarcely hold the paper still enough to 
read it at an ordinary distance, but must bring it close 
to her eyes. When she had finished the story she 
dashed the paper down on her knee, striking it again 
and again with her hand, and turned to Merivale, 
stammering out incoherent words of fury. 

He laughed a little feeble, frightened laugh. “ I 
thought you wouldn’t like it much,” he said ; “ I sup- 
pose you don’t want to go back now ? ” 

His words seemed suddenly to remind her that 
everybody at the dinner-party would be talking about 
them ; that this column in the paper would indeed be 
the talk of every dinner-table in London to-night. 
She began to tremble and to feel very cold and sick ; 
the physical discomfort grew so horrible that she 
leaned back in the carriage so absorbed in fighting 
against it that for a moment she forgot its cause. 
When the carriage arrived in Park Street she looked 
up at the house, half-resolved to drive away to a 
friend’s ; but she felt so ill that the thought of further 
movement was intolerable. On the doorstep she man- 
aged to draw herself up for a moment and say to 
Merivale : “ Go to your club, and don’t dare to come 
back here to-night.” The man got back into the car- 
riage rather relieved at being let off so easily, and 
Helen went on upstairs. 


CHAPTER VI 


Geoffrey Stewart came out of the drawing-room 
as she went past the door and took both her hands 
silently. 

“You have heard about it?” she whispered. 

He nodded. “ Rivers telegraphed to your father, 
and he and I came up from Newmarket this evening. 
He has gone to look for Merivale. I suppose you 
were on your way out to dinner. I hope you heard 
about it before you got there.” 

“ He read the disgusting story himself on the way 
to the Wests, and then at their very door gave it to 
me to read, so that the servants saw us arrive and 
saw us drive away, and everybody at the Wests will 
be laughing about it. Take me away somewhere, 
Geoffrey. Take me and Angela away to-night ; no, 
by the way, I forgot ; Tve left her down at Newmarket. 
Pm out of my mind for a moment. You must take 
me by myself, and Til telegraph to nurse to bring the 
child after us. Go out and telegraph to her, there’s a 
good boy, and we’ll go down to Dover to-night and 
across to Paris to-morrow, and we’ll stay there till 
all the horrible talk is over.” 

“ Of course we can’t do that. I wish I could 
take you down to Ince Weston, and get a few quiet 
folk to stay there and amuse you till it has blown 
over. What do you think of coming to Cornwall 
House to-night ? ” 

58 


A FOOL’S YEAR 59 

“ I wish you could take me somewhere, quite by 
ourselves. I should like that much better.” 

“ How can I when you know I’ve got no money, 
and I know you’ve got none, to pay the smallest of 
hotel bills? It’s dreadful to have to be so practical, 
but you know it’s always like that with me. I’m 
getting horribly tired of it.” 

They had come into the drawing-room and close 
to one of the windows, looking through which now 
they saw that three or four people were standing on 
the pavement, laughing together, and pointing out 
the house to one another. With a gasp of misery 
the woman shrank back against Geofifrey, who put 
an arm round her and drew her back into the darkening 
room. She began to cry quietly and helplessly, while 
he held her tight and tried to whisper consolation. 
They stood there for some minutes, the darkness grow- 
ing perceptibly, and the house seeming to become 
very quiet. The room was very oppressively scented 
with the bunches of lilac and laburnum which Lady 
Helen had brought up from the country that afternoon, 
and with big bowls of roses which remained from last 
night’s festival. Curious new sensations ran tingling 
through Geoffrey’s arms and brain; a certain feeling 
of triumph in the success of his consolation came to 
his mind ; a flash of self-congratulation that he had 
come here alone without Lord St. Ives ; a sudden 
doubtful shame about holding this woman in his arms 
now, though she had rested there so often before. 
Her face was leaning against his shoulder; two or 
three times this evening he had kissed her, but now, 
when he did so again, it was with an odd, new thrill, 
and a little doubt as to how she would take it. The 
feeling must have made itself felt in his arms or lips, 
or in the voice with which he whispered again : “ Helen, 


6o 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


dear, I wish I could help you ; I do wish I could help 
you ; for she looked up suddenly, flushing a little, 
and making a slight movement as if to draw herself 
away. He dropped his arms in response to the move- 
ment, and they stood apart for a few moments, breath- 
ing rather quickly and intensely, conscious of each 
other’s thoughts and every movement. Presently 
Geoffrey began to say something about her changing 
her dress and coming to Cornwall House, and she 
answered perfunctorily; but all the time each was 
acutely conscious of the other’s nearness, and was 
making little movements to come together again. In 
a wandering motion her hand touched his ; he took 
it and held it, and came closer to her, putting an arm 
round her again at last. Geoffrey was asking himself 
in half-real and half-affected bewilderment why he was 
hesitating, and what had happened in the last five min- 
utes. Nervous excitement filled his brain; he was 
talking at random; an odd feeling of repulsion for 
his companion came over him for a moment, followed 
by a sudden passionate desire to accept her invitation 
and take her out of London that evening. She must 
have followed and understood all his thoughts and yet 
wished to encourage them, for she clung quite close 
to him now, and encouraged him to kiss her hair and 
cheeks and lips again and again. 

The front-door bell suddenly rang, crashing into 
the fevered silence like a pistol-shot, and Helen and 
her new lover sprang apart, staring at one another 
with anxious eyes. In a dazed, breathless manner 
Geoffrey ran round the room, turning up two or 
three lights, so that when Lord St. Ives came in he 
saw nothing which he did not expect. Indeed, his 
daughter’s agitation was even less than he had expected 
to find. She promised to come back to Cornwall 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


6l 


House with him at once, and went away to dress 
herself for the purpose, but with a backward glance 
at Geoffrey, as if she would have begged him to 
come too. Left to himself, however, a painful feeling 
of disloyalty and treachery came over the young man. 
He was afraid of St. Ives, nervous of Helen, and he 
hated himself. Waves of passionate love for the 
woman who had so abandoned herself to him were 
succeeded by fits of passionate scorn for himself, who 
could so have taken advantage of them ; and through 
all these fevered fits ran icy moments of knowledge 
that the relations of himself and Helen were changed 
forever. He shrank away from the confidences of 
St. Ives, painfully conscious that he was not in a fit 
mood to give sane advice ; and when Helen came back 
he said a chilly good-bye to her and went away in 
another direction, professing that he must see some one 
on business. 

He only, however, crossed Park Lane into Hyde 
Park and walked towards Kensington Palace, trying 
to foresee what would happen. He was conscious of 
nothing in his mind at this moment except a frenzied 
desire to go away with Helen to-morrow, and stay 
with her as long as he and she pleased, in defiance of 
all the world. Then he stood still in the middle of 
the path and laughed, for the amount of money in 
his pocket just then would not have paid their fares 
to Paris; and the idea of going to St. Ives and bor- 
rowing money from him in order to run away with 
his daughter, struck Mr. Stewart as rather funny. It 
occurred to him now for the first time that wrong- 
doing was a costly luxury, perfectly impossible to a 
man who was trying to make two hundred and fifty 
pounds a year do the work of five thousand. Among 
all the reasons which prevent a man from running 
5 


62 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


away with his neighbour’s wife — the dread of venge- 
ance, the respect for moral law, the fear of public 
opinion, and other lofty motives — I have noticed that 
an altogether inadequate importance is assigned to 
the man’s inability to pay the railway fare, which is, 
I suspect, a determining factor in many such love 
crises. 

The humour of a situation which was decided one 
way or the other by a lack of money had become a 
little stale to Geoffrey Stewart. He confronted it too 
often, in too many of the affairs of life, to be able to 
find the slightest joke in it now. A comic story told 
in different words and unexpected places can amuse 
us five or six or a dozen times ; but, in truth, the 
point of it is often the same, and our laughter must 
needs grow less as it is repeated. The humour of 
poverty, always a little grim, can bear repetition less 
often than any joke in the world; and yet, properly 
considered, its wit is as wide and variegated as life, 
no moment in which is safe from its horrid intrusion. 
You would become a reckless profligate and entertain 
at supper parties of dancing-girls from the Paris Opera 
every night at the Cafe de Paris? Unfortunately, 
supper there costs a pound a head when you manage 
it economically, and treble that sum when you don’t. 
You would go to Monte Carlo and play trente et 
quarante in maximums, and stand to lose or win a 
fortune on the proverbial turn of a card. But the 
unsympathetic croupier won’t let you do it on credit, 
holding impertinently to his law that you shall risk 
your own gold before you can win his ; and when you 
have no gold, how can your great and daring venture 
be carried out? And again, as I say, how can you 
ask a woman to run away with you when in the next 
breath you must borrow half a crown from her to 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


63 


pay the cab fare? Mr. Stewart seldom raged against 
his poverty ; it was too old a tale ; he had never known 
another existence than that of a perpetual attempt to 
live with rich people and spend nothing in the process. 
But the pinching shoes of life give an extra tweak 
now and then, however well used you may be to their 
pain ; and the extra twinge makes us rage not only 
against its momentary pang, but against the whole 
shoe and the entire system of the universe which has 
caused the shoe to be placed on our foot. Geof¥rey 
stood still in the pathway and cursed poverty in general 
and his own lack of income in particular with a free 
vigour which he felt that he had, never surpassed. 
What was life worth, he said to himself, with no home 
and no pleasures and no chance of winning any ? The 
tumbling ruin at Weston was a home for rats and 
ghosts, not for a man ; an occasional berth on another 
man’s yacht, an occasional mount on another man’s 
horse, an occasional day in another man’s coverts, was 
not pleasure, because it lacked every sense of freedom. 
Having used the person’s goods you had to tell funny 
stories to him, retail gossip to his wife, and dance 
with his daughters. Your amusement was complicated 
by the keeping of accounts, and the constant making 
up of the ledger to your own and your host’s satis- 
faction; by the knowledge that whatever you might 
think to the contrary he would always consider you 
in his debt. The last little sting of irritation came to 
Geoffrey when he emerged from the park opposite 
Lancaster Gate, and feeling oddly shaken and tired 
by his late emotion, realized that he wanted nothing 
now except to get into a hansom and be driven off 
to Cornwall House. But hansoms were one of the 
many luxuries against which he had set his face sternly, 
and he never broke any of his own rules. He climbed 


64 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


on to the top of an omnibus, and passengers stopped 
it thrice as often as usual to get in and out, and a 
man sitting in front of him flicked a cigar-ash into 
his eye, and Geoffrey thought that life had no more 
ills with which to afflict him. 

Early on Friday morning he went down to Cam- 
bridge with Lord St. Ives, who was engaged to lay 
a foundation-stone, make a speech, dine with a political 
club, and make another speech. This was not a day’s 
work which improved the temper either of the young 
man or his master. Helen had had a short parting 
interview with him in the morning, during which she 
had said once or Iwice, in an irritated voice, that she 
wished he could help her in this or that fashion, but 
of course she recognised that he couldn’t. The words 
had annoyed Geoffrey intensely ; they seemed to ignore 
so entirely his affection for her and the sympathy with 
which he was so free ; yet he himself, in most cases, 
would have been the first to admit the practical value- 
lessness of such an offering. No other thought was 
in his mind now except a wish to serve her as he would 
have wished to help his sister; a little breath of a 
deeper feeling had come and gone, leaving no other 
trace of itself than a slight restless desire to avoid 
thought and solitude ; but such friendly service was 
not within his power. 

It was Sunday evening now, and Mr. Stewart, who 
had gone on to Ince Weston from Cambridge, was 
walking slowly back from a long walk. He had 
almost reached the gate of his park, and was looking 
with irritation through the trees to the spot where 
the blackened conservatory would shortly thrust itself 
into his view, when a man coming down the road 
stopped opposite to him and held out his hand. It 
was Jerry Cater, the jockey. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


65 


Stewart had been thinking, and, as usual with him 
after that occupation, would have welcomed a bimet- 
allist lecturer with enthusiasm. He shook hands and 
asked: “Well, Cater, what brings you into these 
parts ? 

“ Got an old uncle down here, Mr. Stewart, and 
he’s got five thousand pounds. I hope to earn it, but 
it’s tougher work than riding. I’m just on my way 
to a final interview and supper.” 

“ You’d better give him some good advice about 
the Derby, and help him to add a bit to the five thou- 
sand. I hear that Mr. Islan has given up first claim 
on you at Epsom, and that you are to ride Chancellor 
in the Derby. That will give him another three pounds 
in hand, so you ought to win. I don’t think we shall 
do much good against you. Chancellor was a seven 
pounds better horse than Midnight in the Two Thou- 
sand, and I don’t see any reason why the Epsom 
course should make a difference.” 

“What do you think of Kansas, Mr. Stewart?” 

“ Mr. Hopper’s horse ? Why should he do any 
better at Epsom than at Newmarket? He was nearly 
last in the Two Thousand, wasn’t he? Why — eh? — ” 
for Cater was looking at him with an odd smile — 
“ What do you mean ? ” 

Cater laughed outright. “ I’ll tell you what, Mr. 
Stewart; you’ve done me some good turns in my life 
and so’s the marquis, and I’ll just give you a word 
of warning in return. His lordship’ll get into a big 
row if he don’t stop that friend of his, Hopper, from 
going about talking in the way he’s doing. He goes 
about saying openly as the marquis has got to win 
the Derby, whatever the price is, and he won’t have 
Midnight beaten again if money can stop it. My lord ! 
he’s a queer fish, that man is ; taking him by and large. 


66 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


he’s about the biggest scoundrel Fve ever met. That 
Kansas of his could have near won the Two Thousand 
if he’d wanted to ; but poor little Barnes was just 
told to follow Midnight home, and I can tell you there 
was an awful row at Dentry House that night because 
Barnes hadn’t seen sooner that Midnight was beat, and 
didn’t go on and beat Chancellor. Now old Hopper’s 
trying to square everybody connected with Chancellor. 
He come down to Alexandra Park, Saturday, and he 
come up to me, as bold and impudent as you please, 
and says he : ‘ Jerry, my man, a word in your ear while 
no one’s listening. The Marquis of St. Ives is my 
very good friend,’ says he, ‘ and I like my friends to 
win races. And the Duke of Dorset’s a low-down 
blackleg,’ he says, ‘.and his nephew and heir’s the 
scum of the earth,’ he says, ‘ and I won’t have races 
won by blackguards like that,’ says he, ‘ and defile,’ 
he says, ‘ the glorious traditions of the English turf. 
I’ll stop him,’ says he, ‘ if it costs me twenty thousand 
dollars,’ he says, ‘ and if I’m obliged,’ says he, ‘ to 
hamstring Chancellor with my own hands,’ he says. 
‘ But the question is now,’ says he, ‘ how much’ll you 
take to stop him ? ’ I told him we didn’t do business 
in that fashion in England, and that if he wanted Mid- 
night to win he’d better tell Eliott to train the horse 
to go faster; but five minutes afterward I saw him 
talking to our trainer, wagging his ugly head and 
playing with the bank-notes in his pocket-book, just 
as he’d been doing with me, so I guessed he was on 
the same business. Indeed, I know he was ; only in 
the case of Jameson he seemed to have been saying 
quite openly that the marquis was taking a hand in 
this deal, for Jameson came up to me afterward, and 
says he : ‘ The Marquis of St. Ives is trying some 
queer tricks to win the Derby.’ Of course I told him 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


67 


I knew pretty well the marquis had no more to do 
with this American bounder than I had, and I begged 
him to hold his tongue, and he will ; but indeed, Mr. 
Stewart, Hopper’s an awful blackguard, and it does 
seem to me that you and the marquis had better stop 
him talking if you can. Of course Jameson and I 
will hold our tongues ; but he’ll get you into trouble 
without much help of ours.” 

Stewart listened to this story with a very grim 
smile on his face, and a good deal of satisfaction in 
his heart. He had hardly wanted any proof himself 
that Hopper ought to be warned off the turf, but he 
was glad to have something which Lord St. Ives would 
accept as proof. He warmly commended Cater’s 
intention of keeping silence, begged him to keep to 
it, and promised that St. Ives should show due grati- 
tude for the warning. Then the two men parted, and 
Stewart walked on home. 

Early on Monday morning he went up to London, 
and stood on the platform hesitating for a moment — 
a fateful moment — whether he should go first to St. 
Ives or to Hopper. One of the little accidents which 
make or mar a hundred human lives happened then : 
an acquaintance of his came up, saying : “ Are you 
going anywhere in the direction of the city ? I’ve got 
my brougham here, and I’ll give you a lift if you 
are.” Geoffrey accepted gratefully, and was driven 
off to Mr. Cyrus Hopper’s city office. 

The American financier had just arrived, and was 
reading his letters, but he sent at once for Mr. Stewart 
to come into his room, and received him with out- 
stretched hand. One or two little things had hap- 
pened during the latter part of Mr. Hopper’s stay at 
Newmarket to show him that his position in the St. 
Ives household was not quite as high and secure as 


68 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


he had once liked to fancy, and he was more than 
ever anxious now to conciliate so considerable a per- 
sonage in this household as Mr. Stewart. The fact 
was, of course, that St. Ives had been in great distress 
for the last few hours of his stay at Newmarket owing 
to the news about Helen; and, as he would no more 
have thought of talking about his family affairs to a 
stableman than to Mr. Hopper, the latter had only 
been vaguely aware that there were family troubles 
in progress about which he was to be told nothing. 
Apparently, then, he was not the family friend which 
he was fond of representing himself to be. The dis- 
covery vexed him, and made him trebly pleased this 
morning to see Mr. Stewart, who might possibly have 
been sent to ask his advice or assistance. The young 
man’s exceeding gravity as he came in rather con- 
firmed this idea. 

“ Come in, Mr. Stewart, and sit down. We’ll have 
a glass of champagne and a cigar, and you shall tell 
me your business. I’ve got a job or two which I 
must finish this morning, but I’ve always half an hour 
at your service. Here, Robertson, get out a pint of 
Moet and bring two glasses.” 

No, thanks,” protested Geoffrey ; “ really, no, 
thank you. Drinking champagne at half-past ten in 
the morning would simply make me sick ; it tastes 
like rusty iron-water. And may we be quite by our- 
selves? I have rather a serious matter to speak of.” 

Confirmed in his impression that Stewart had come 
to talk about the St. Ives family affairs, Mr. Hopper 
dismissed his secretary with pleased alacrity, and sat 
down on his desk-chair with a look of grave sympathy 
on his face, and the tips of his fingers resting lightly 
and exactly against one another. “ And what can I 
do for you now, Mr. Stewart? ” he asked. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


69 


I saw Jerry Cater, the jockey, yesterday,” blurted 
out Geof¥rey ; “ and he told me all that you had said 
to him at Alexandra Park.” 

“ Very indiscreet of him, very indiscreet indeed,” 
murmured Mr., Hopper, with a slight, bland smile 
like a man discovered, not altogether unwillingly, in 
a good action. “ Well, I like to give my friends a 
helping hand whenever I can, and you who do so much 
good work for our most amiable friend St. Ives, won’t 
grudge me this chance of doing him a good turn 
by myself.” 

Considering this speech some time afterward, 
Geofirey was inclined to smile, but at the moment 
it made him unreasonably angry. Hopper, he thought, 
was merely trying to brazen the matter out, whereas, 
in point of fact, the American was totally unconscious 
of anything which required brass to cover it. Also, 
he was unusually pleased with himself this morning, 
having initiated a small panic in Wall Street during 
the previous week, and made a considerable sum of 
money by the resulting sales. Mr. Stewart, being 
angry, answered with some very plain speech. 

“ I almost despair of explaining to you,” he said, 
how we should regard what you have just done. 
You offered Cater money, as I understand, to stop 
Chancellor, and you have ordered your own jockey 
to stop Kansas. Do you know — have you the slightest 
idea — what the penalty is for that kind of thing 
over here ? ” 

“ I daresay,” said Hopper uneasily, but still smiling, 
'Ghat it would not be altogether wise to tell every- 
body about my proposals. But Cater would not do 
that; neither, I hope, will you. At the same time 
you have rich men over here, and I suppose some of 
them are willing to pay their price to win a big race.” 


70 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ Oh,” said Geoffrey, this sort of thing wants 
more patience than I have got ! ” He sat for a moment 
looking on the floor and scratching the chair with 
one finger. Then he looked up at the American, 
and seeing a nervous shadow on his face, went on 
with more hope : “ Will you accept my assurance, Mr. 
Hopper, that if the slightest suspicion of what you 
have done came to the ears of the stewards of the 
Jockey Club they would warn you off the English 
turf ; and that when Lord St. Ives hears of it he will 
simply decline to know you any longer? I pledge 
you my word of honour that I am telling you the 
truth, and not exaggerating it by a hair’s-breadth. That 
sort of thing is simply considered a crime. Socially 
speaking, you would be less damned if you robbed a 
bank and murdered the manager. There are places in 
England where you may cheat, and places where you 
may not. The turf is a place where you may not.” 

The uneasiness on Mr. Hopper’s face had deepened 
considerably, and he sat silent for a moment eyeing 
the young man with visible concern. I guess you’re 
telling the truth,” he said at last ; '' you don’t love me, 
and I daresay you wouldn’t stick at much to get 
rid of me ; but this time I judge you’re acting straight. 
But tell me one thing which I don’t understand. Have 
you told St. Ives yet, or have you not? If you have, 
I conclude he’s going to make himself unpleasant. If 

you haven’t, well ” 

“ I haven’t. And what then ? ” 

“You haven’t? No? Well, then — ” The Ameri- 
can’s hand made a perfectly involuntary movement 
towards his check-book. It stopped, however, and 
hung doubtfully in front of the drawer. Instinct and 
experience were at war ; the latter suggesting that the 
question was merely one of amount, the former hinting 


A FOOL’S YEAR 7 1 

that a horsewhipping would be the sole result of any 
such offer. 

There was silence between the two men for the 
space of a minute ; then the secretary brought in a 
card, and Hopper, having dismissed him, looked across 
at Stewart with a very white face. “ This looks as if 
something had blown up somewhere,” he said. 

Here’s St. Ives come to call. Do you suppose it’s 
anything to do with this accursed race ? ” 

Stewart looked hardly less startled. “ I don’t 
know ; I really don’t know. I haven’t seen him since 
Friday night. It’s quite possible he may have heard 
something at Newmarket, where he spent Saturday 
and Sunday. Shall I stay here unless he asks to see 
you alone ? ” 

Hopper muttered “ Yes, ” and telephoned for Lord 
St. Ives to be shown up. The marquis came in smiling 
easily, so that one glance at his face dissipated all 
Geoffrey’s fears. His opening words, however, made 
Mr. Hopper flush deeply. 

How are you. Hopper? Good-morning, Geof- 
frey. You two look as if you were organizing 
a simultaneous panic in every stock exchange in 
Europe, so I won’t detain you two minutes. Truly, 
my errand will seem to you quite absurd. You have 
been indiscreet. Hopper, and you must take care. 
You have been espousing the cause of my poor horse 
Midnight with such fervour, and stating everywhere 
with so much conviction your belief that it will win 
the Derby, that an insane rumour has begun to float 
round Newmarket that you are arranging for it to 
win. Goodness knows what stories will be told next 
— that you and I have been bribing the jockeys, or 
squaring trainers, or some nonsense of that sort. Do 
pray be careful.” 


72 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


And is that considered such a very awful offence 
in this country ? asked Hopper, laughing nervously. 

St. Ives stared at him in bewilderment, equally 
afraid of answering a serious question lightly and of 
taking a bad joke seriously. ‘‘ They tell me it is. 
rather,” he said, trying to hit a happy medium in his 
answer between the two difficulties. “You haven’t 
a complete monopoly of decency in America, you 
know. There’s a little of it left over here, and we 
enforce it for all we’re worth. I daresay you’re very 
down on offenders ; but for our own credit over here 
I must tell you that last time we caught a chap playing 
games of that sort we gave him a very rough time, 
didn’t we, Geoffrey? You remember Frank Allison.’^ 
“ He paid Foster to pull The White Rat, I believe,” 
said Geoffrey in a very clear and emphatic voice, “ and 
was kicked off the turf, and turned out of all his clubs, 
and cut by everybody in London, and has changed 
his name now and gone to live in Brussels, hasn’t he ? ” 
“ That’s the chap,” said St. Ives lightly ; “ so you 
see. Hopper, you must really talk more carefully. 
Don’t mind my giving you that word of warning. 
One pays a higher penalty for a blundering word 
than for any average murder. Now I’ll go away and 
leave you two to your nefarious business of rigging 
railway markets. Join me at twelve o’clock, Geoffrey, 
if the crisis is over by then and you and Mr. Hopper 
have either made or lost a million.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Left alone together the two men sat staring at 
one another in perfectly motionless silence for nearly 
a minute. Once or twice, during the last ten min- 
utes, Geoffrey had half-resolved to tell Lord St. Ives on 
the spot what had happened ; each time he had refrained 
in mere pity. To denounce a man to his face, when 
nobody except yourself has the slightest idea that 
there is anything wrong about him, requires a good 
deal of courage and presence of mind ; more, indeed, 
than Mr. Stewart possessed. He did not like now to 
think that he had deliberately waited for a chance to 
accuse Hopper behind his back. Hopper, for his part, 
was frightened to a point at which all calculation had 
ceased; he simply sat here waiting for Geoffrey to 
pronounce his verdict and sentence. Banished from 
the society in which he imagined himself to be so 
prominent and brilliant a figure ; expelled from the 
clubs of which he loved to boast ; driven away from 
the sport in which he found some real pleasure and 
many social advantages, was it credible that he should 
be treated thus in punishment for a fault which 
appeared to him to be a mere matter of business so 
long as it could be kept quiet, and an indiscretion 
when it could not? Yet there was a horrid certainty 
about the statements of these two men : and as he sat 
waiting for Geoffrey to speak, the conviction was 
growing on him that he had made a very big blunder. 

73 


74 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ So, Mr. Hopper, you see I am not far wrong. 
After that extremely opportune confirmation of what 
I was saying, you will understand that I must take 
some steps about this matter.” 

Let it rest, Mr. Stewart ; leave it alone. Til tell 
Cater to ride as hard as he likes, and tell my jockey 
to do the same; and the horses can win, or lose, or 
stay in the stable, just as they please. I’ll apologize 
to you arid own, all round, that I have made a fool 
of myself, and we’ll let it alone.” 

“ You mean,” said Geoffrey coldly, “ that you will 
pay every one to hush this matter up, and next time 
you try another ramp you’ll do it more quietly.” 

As this was just exactly what Mr. Hopper did 
mean, he flushed slightly, and stammered out that 
Mr. Stewart had no right to speak like that. When 
all was said and done, what affair was it of his? 

“ I can explain that to you very easily,” replied 
the young man. You have been an intimate friend 
of Lord St. Ives and all his family; it is on behalf 
of one of Lord St. Ives’s horses that you are trying 
to arrange this impudent swindle, of which I, who 
am a friend, and adviser, and servant of Lord St. Ives, 
have just by accident heard. It is all very much 
my business.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ Tell Lord St. Ives, I suppose.” 

“Why didn’t you do it just then?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Geoffrey quite truthfully ; 
“ really it seemed to me almost brutal to begin a 
great row before you even understood what it was 
about.” 

“ Rubbish, Mr. Stewart. You wanted to tell him 
all about it when I wasn’t there ; to make the case 
as black as you can; to have me turned out of the 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


75 


house. Oh, I know very well that you don’t approve 
of my being a friend of the family, and that you are 
merely waiting for some such chance to have me turned 
out! Your chance has come, it appears.” 

“ I don’t think I’m concerned to deny any of 
that. I think that, sooner or later, you would com- 
promise Lord St. Ives, who is not a very careful 
person.” 

“You have quite made up your mind, then, that 
you are going to tell him ? ” 

“ I can’t imagine any reason why I shouldn’t.” 

There was a longer silence between the two men. 
Hopper could not bring himself to beg for mercy, 
and Geoffrey did not like to get up and leave the 
room without giving him an opportunity to say any- 
thing more. The executioner who is charged with 
the unpleasing duty of hanging a man likes to wait 
as long as decency permits on the chance of a reprieve 
coming. 

The whole horrid reality of what this young man 
meant to do dawned fully on the American’s mind 
during the silence. It meant the completest social 
ruin which his mind could conceive. The St. Ives 
family would drop him, and would not keep silence 
about their reason for doing so. He would be warned 
off the English turf, his horses taken away, his dis- 
grace made public in the newspapers. He would have 
to leave England, and begin once more the laborious 
task of forcing an entrance into the social circles of 
a new country. His scheme of marrying Maura Vernon 
and settling down in England must be given up, and 
it would hurt his pride badly to give it up. A score 
of little plans of amusement arranged for the coming 
summer flashed into his mind one after another: the 
half-tier of boxes in the Grand Stand at Epsom, which 


76 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


were to be decorated with flowers, provided with the 
smartest lunch which his chef could devise, and filled 
with the smartest people in London; the big house 
which he had taken for Ascot; the gorgeously dec- 
orated house-boat which he had arranged for Henley ; 
the series of week-end parties on the river for which 
he had engaged famous chefs, hired half a dozen of 
the best launches on the river, and planned a carnival 
of luxury gone mad — all these schemes must vanish 
out of his life. There was nothing for him to do now 
in England except to go on making money, and he 
was sick to death of that occupation. Thought grew 
quite intolerable, and he looked up again at Stewart, 
on whose face he fancied that he saw a slight look 
of hesitation and pity. 

“ You must let me off this time, Mr. Stewart,^' 
he said in a husky voice ; “ you shall dictate your own 
terms, and I shall be obliged to do very much as 
you please, because, you see, I am entirely in your 
power now and for a good long time to come. Make 
what terms you please and let me off. Come, sir, I 
have never made myself nasty to you ; so you don’t 
want revenge on me. I quite understand that it is 
your duty to protect Lord St. Ives against any possible 
results of this stupid trick which I have tried to play ; 
but you can do all that without driving me out of 
the country. Practically, that is what you are pro- 
posing to do now.” 

Geoffrey shook his head very slightly ; but to 
Hopper’s eyes, with their considerable experience in 
reading men’s faces, there was resolution in the young 
man’s face which gave him a sick qualm of fear lest 
further appeal might be useless. 

“ You understand my position quite well really, 
Mr. Hopper. What would be the good of my trying 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


77 


to impose limitations on ^your friendship with the St. 
Iveses? I couldn’t make any such limitations, and 
you wouldn’t keep them if I could. Consider what 
would be my position with Lord St. Ives if he heard 
about this business with Jerry Cater, and then found 
out that I had known all about it. I must consider 
myself, even if I gave up all consideration for him. 
My only income in the world would be gone if he 
and I fell out. You see, every motive in the world, 
high and low, forces me to tell him ” ; and so saying, 
Geoffrey rose from his seat and took up his hat. 

The movement seemed to rouse Cyrus Hopper 
for the first time to a complete realization of what 
was going to take place, and of the fact that it was 
going to take place at once. He, too, jumped up 
from his seat, and his face, which had been so far 
impassive and even occasionally smiling, grew sud- 
denly tragic with fear. His lips were trembling and 
had turned bluish white; his cheeks under his close- 
cropped gray whiskers had turned very white with 
deep lines showing dark in them ; his eyes were con- 
tracted and wrinkled up as he peered into Stewart’s 
face, blinking occasionally, and his lips stammering 
out words of incoherent entreaty. The whole inter- 
view seemed suddenly to change from an even-toned 
business conversation between two men of the world 
to a fiercely tragic scene, in which the elder actor was 
pleading wildly with the younger for life and home, and 
all that made them worth having. Geoffrey drew back 
almost frightened. He himself was only just begin- 
ning to understand all that his threat meant to the 
American millionaire; he knew nothing of all the 
details of the life which Hopper had planned, but he 
understood generally that the American had arranged 
to settle down in England and take all the amusement 


78 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


which life there could offer him, and that he had 
succeeded up to a point, and must now abandon the 
life altogether. The young man was sorry in slight, 
half-hearted fashion. He did not like the man and 
knew him now to be thoroughly dishonest, a great 
scoundrel as well as a considerable nuisance ; but he 
saw that he was going to pay a big price for this 
last fault. 

Hopper had been muttering : “ I entreat you to 
reconsider this ; I implore you at least to put it off 
till to-morrow ; and other distracted sentences ; but 
he began to repeat them at last a little perfunctorily, 
as if he were thinking of something else while he 
spoke. In fact, he had been thinking of something 
else, for when Geoffrey answered with a few polite 
words of negation and made a more decisive move- 
ment to go. Hopper made an effort to control himself 
and said more quietly : “ Don’t go yet ; I have some- 
thing else to suggest to you.” 

Having said this, however, and seen Geoffrey check 
himself once more in his effort at departure. Hopper 
did not seem in any hurry to put his suggestion into 
words. He stood looking at Stewart, toying very 
nervously with pens, letters, and papers, and occasion- 
ally looking nervously at the door as if fearful of find- 
ing it open and another enemy coming into his room. 
At last he said abruptly : “ I want you to consider 
what I am going to say, not to answer it on the spot. 
Will you pledge me your word not to make any com- 
ment on this proposition, nor to return any answer 
to it until to-morrow morning?” 

“ No,” said Geoffrey, “ I certainly will not.” 

“ Will you promise to wait till one o’clock before 
answering or taking any further steps in the matter ? ” 
asked Hopper. There was a desperate tone in his 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


79 


voice and a desperate look on his face, as of a man 
who was playing his last card, and could not get fair 
conditions in which to play it. 

“Till one o’clock?” Stewart looked vexed and 
puzzled as he repeated the question. “ I really don’t 
see any harm in waiting till then. On the other hand, 
I don’t see what you can gain by it. You will have 
time, of course, to communicate with Cater; but I 
warn you fairly that nothing he can say is at all likely 
to make me change my resolution.” 

“ But you will promise not to answer my proposi- 
tion or speak to Lord St. Ives till then ? ” said the 
other, passing his tongue across his dry lips and 
putting both hands flat down on his desk. 

“ Well, since you make a point of it, I don’t mind 
promising that. I’m afraid you will gain nothing by it.” 

“ Give me this distinct promise : that you will listen 
to what I am going to say now without interruption, 
and without giving an answer of any kind till the 
hour which we have agreed upon. I may tell you 
that I am not going to communicate with Cater or 
with anybody else except yourself. All that I am 
trying for now is to insure that you yourself will not 
answer my proposition without full consideration.” 

“ I don’t mind promising that,” said Geoffrey ; “ I 
will listen in silence, and send you a written answer 
at one o’clock to anything which you may be going 
to say now.” 

“ I will give ” 

Mr. Hopper managed to articulate these three 
words, and then sat down suddenly in his desk-chair, 
his dry lips refusing to frame further speech. For 
nearly a minute he sat there making vague strokes 
with a pencil on an envelope. Then he began again 
slowly : 


8o 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“You want money for everything; I have been 
told about your house ; I know all about your life ; I 
know that your life is almost impossible for want of 
money, and I see what you probably don’t realize, 
that it will become less and less tolerable as years go 
on. Lord St. Ives may die ; you may not be able 
to work any more ; a score of people would offer you 
charity, but you would hate it worse than slavery.” 

“ I am quite ” 

“ I must remind you of your promise not to inter- 
rupt me nor to answer me till one o’clock.” Hopper, 
who had been sitting with his eyes on his desk, sud- 
denly raised them to Stewart’s face, which was flashing 
with indignation and scorn. In truth, Geoffrey Stewart 
hardly wanted to answer, and was even now making 
up his mind that he would give no reply whatever 
to the proposition which he foresaw to be forthcoming. 
The American millionaire was apparently going to 
offer him five, six, or perhaps ten thousand pounds, 
to hold his tongue. It was like Hopper to make 
such an offer. He would take the blackguard at his 
word, and make no reply whatever, now, to the sug- 
gestion. Neither, however, would he send an answer 
at one o’clock. He would just go away and tell St. 
Ives the whole story. 

“ Mr. Stewart, I will give you a million pounds to 
keep silence. I will give it you here, now, in a check 
which you can cash at my bank to-day. If you will 
come here at one o’clock, or send a letter promising 
not to tell Lord St. Ives anything about my conversa- 
tion with Cater at Alexandra Park, I will give or send 
you a check for a million pounds, and tell, or help you 
to tell, any story which you like to devise, to account 
for your possession of the money. Go away; think 
over the offer carefully, and send me your answer.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A TOAD suddenly subjected to a galvanic battery, 
or a rabbit suddenly injected with poison, nearly 
always behaves in the same way, and the ordinary 
vivisectionist student can tell you to a nicety what 
each beast will do under the circumstances. Mr. Cyrus 
Hopper, who had an extremely intimate knowledge 
of the money disease, could tell you precisely in what 
way any given individual would take the gold-fever, 
and exactly under what pressure his principles would 
become confused and resolution would waver. About 
the ultimate result he was not an infallible judge, 
because, like many another doctor with a favourite 
drug, his faith in it was too profound, and his disre- 
gard of counteracting influences was apt to become 
unreasonable ; but from long, practical experience, he 
knew as much about the power of money as any fallible 
man could know. The love of it is a disease whose 
fever-heat you can read on a thermometer, whose 
passionate pulse-beats you can count with ease; but 
the cleverest specialist cannot tell you just where some 
latent strength of character, some courageous faith 
or higher hope, will rise up and help the patient to 
win through. 

Mr. Hopper had made his calculations with perfect 
accuracy. He was quite aware that an offer of a few 
thousand pounds as a bribe would probably procure 
him a horsewhipping. He was equally aware that 

8i 


82 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


the odds were ten to one against Mr. Stewart accepting 
any bribe at all. The essential point was that he should 
be compelled to hesitate for a moment, and Mr. Hopper 
had so much faith in the power of gold as to believe 
very firmly that in a matter of bribery the man who 
hesitates is lost. The question in the millionaire’s 
mind during the past twenty minutes had been simply 
how big a sum would make Stewart hesitate. He 
had exacted the young man’s promise to wait two 
or three hours without any great faith in its being 
kept. If his offer had been one which Stewart was 
expecting and prepared to resent, the answer would 
have been equally prompt and wrathful. He would 
gain everything that he expected or desired to gain 
if Stewart really went away without answering him. 
The amount which he would actually have to pay was 
not a matter of great moment to Mr. Hopper, who 
had already twice as much money as he wanted and 
was making more daily. His loans, charitable sub- 
scriptions, and nine-tenths of his other payments were 
made solely with the view of purchasing any pleasure 
or honour which he desired to possess, and the amount 
of each payment was the carefully calculated minimum 
necessary for the purchase. His judgment was good, 
his credit unlimited. He had the most precise knowl- 
edge of what he wanted and how much it was worth ; 
and, as a general rule, he bought what he wanted at 
his own price. 

The man was quite right in this case; the sum 
which he had mentioned completely staggered Geof- 
frey, who really could not answer at the moment, and 
was not at all displeased to remember that he need 
give no reply till one o’clock. You cannot possibly 
offer a million pounds to a complete pauper without 
stirring up a tumult' in his brain which obscures all 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


33 


the moral law under which his past life has been lived, 
and knocks his principles down like nine-pins. The 
man does not exist who could listen with perfect 
equanimity and return an unwavering negative to a 
person who offers to raise his income from two hun- 
dred a year to forty thousand, and who is, as he knows, 
perfectly capable of doing it. And the offer in this 
case had been so very detailed, so very sure and prompt 
and ample. The money was to be paid into his hands 
this afternoon. A check, about which there could 
be no question whatever, was to be given to him by 
a man who would not very seriously feel its loss, and 
who had every reason in the world for keeping silence 
about why it had been paid. There was to be no delay, 
no tedious hours of waiting, inviting repentance and 
change of mind ; there was to be no fear of exposure, 
retribution, or restoration afterward. No active exer- 
tion was necessary on the recipient’s part, no painful 
words had to be spoken, no mean task had to be carried 
through. Silence was all that he gave in return for 
this huge price — silence and inaction. It meant every- 
thing to Hopper; from his point of view it was well 
worth the price which he had offered to pay. What 
real injury could such silence do to Stewart’s friend, 
or Stewart himself? 

It was a question which throbbed in the young 
man’s brain like the pulsation of a steam-ship as he 
left Hopper’s offices, being almost helped out of the 
doors by wondering clerks. The traffic of Lothbury 
streamed past his eyes like a silent cloud-procession ; 
he walked automatically in and out among the long 
lines of omnibuses and cabs at the bank, seeing nothing 
and hearing nothing. Opposite the Mansion House 
he stood for a moment wondering if he should get 
into a hansom and drive back, -or whether he must 


84 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


wait for a Hammersmith omnibus to take him to the 
bottom of Campden Hill. He did not understand very 
clearly why such an idea as taking a cab, whose fare 
would be half a crown, had occurred to him at all ; 
at last he saw that he was already beginning to con- 
sider the possibility of being a wealthy man, and 
with a startled exclamation, which made one or two 
passers-by turn round and look at him, he jumped 
on to an omnibus which came up and took a seat on 
the top. The sovereign with which he paid his fare 
was the last but one which he had to keep him in 
pocket-money till the June quarter day ; he had incurred 
some extra expenses just before his visit to New- 
market, and, after paying all dues at Ince Weston, he 
had these two pounds left to carry him on to the 
end of June. Two pounds to last for the seven busiest 
weeks of a London season! He had passed weeks 
often enough before obliged to watch every penny in 
similar fashion : to use post-cards instead of stamps, 
to buy made-up dress-ties because they lasted longer 
than the others, to walk to points on the omnibus 
route from which his fare would be a penny instead 
of twopence; and it rarely occurred to him to rave 
very angrily against such a life, or make any very 
violent effort to escape from it, however bitterly he 
might feel each of its pin-pricks. But the mountaineer 
coming back from a fifteen-hours’ climb is only over- 
whelmed with fatigue when, far below him in the 
valley, his hotel first comes into view. He sits down 
and looks at it, apparently so near that twenty minutes’ 
desperate walking must surely bring him to it; he 
knows, in fact, that it is at least two hours, and wonders 
how it is humanly possible that for the last three hours 
he has been able to put one foot below another, and 
how on earth he will be able to go on doing it, even 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


85 


for the brief space of time which now separates him 
from his goal. And what would that mountaineer 
say if you invited him to turn back and reclimb the 
long glacier-slopes and weary rocks which he has just 
left behind? 

Mr. Stewart sat on the rocks and looked down 
into the valley; or, to be precise, he sat on the top 
of his omnibus and looked down into Piccadilly. He 
stared into Hatchards’ window, gay with new and 
gorgeously bound books, and thought of his library 
at Ince Weston; he looked in at Prince’s window, 
and ran over in his mind a score of lunches and dinners 
which he would like to give there ; the omnibus stopped 
opposite Solomon’s for a moment, and he saw the 
gorgeous flowers which he would have on his dinner- 
table, the baskets of forced strawberries which he 
would carry into all the nurseries of which he had 
the entree. A score of friends passed by below him, 
and mentally he was inviting them all to Ince Weston 
— to Ince Weston, transformed now into the most 
superb house in East Anglia, an invitation to which 
should be a most coveted object in his acquaintance’s 
lives. He saw its long lines of mouldering drawing- 
rooms and broken galleries rebuilt, gorgeous with 
paint and tapestry, echoing with dance-music and 
laughter; he saw big conservatories full of flowers 
and fruit, great nurseries crowded with toys where the 
children might play, the big hall hung with renovated 
pictures, the stables full of horses, of smart carriages, 
and the newest things in motor-cars. He would have 
a great breeding-stud on the other side of Weston, 
training-gallops made for the horses on the home- 
farm, perhaps a small race-course fitted up on the 

common near Barley 

And the price of this ? What exactly was he asked 


86 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


to do ? Whom could his silence really injure ? Hopper 
had made a proposal to the jockey Cater which Cater 
had declined, and for the present there was an end of the 
transaction. Cater’s silence could be bought ; so could 
that of the trainer to whom he had repeated the story. 
Hopper was not likely to repeat this particular offence ; 
at any rate he would do it, if at all, so cautiously 
that neither Geoffrey nor Lord St. Ives were likely 
to hear much about it. There was a chance, of course, 
that this particular transaction might come to St. Ives’s 
ears; some rumour of it had indeed already arrived 
there, and St. Ives had come round into the Ameri- 
can’s offices and hinted very plainly at his disapproval 
of even loose talk about such a matter as a turf 
fraud. Mr. Stewart tried to console himself with the 
thought that Lord St. Ives perhaps knew all that was 
necessary for him to know, and would take his own 
steps ; but the delusion could not be made to last 
long. It was perfectly clear that if Stewart told his 
story now, giving full confirmation to what St. Ives 
had heard, Mr. Hopper would be turned neck and 
crop out of the house, and out of a good many other 
houses in London besides. By keeping silence, 
Geoffrey was tolerating the existence in his friend’s 
houses of a first-class scamp, whose dishonesty he 
had discovered and had taken a bribe to conceal. Mut- 
tering angrily to himself, he put the case into words 
once more, and truly it did not sound nice. 

He reached Cornwall House shortly before twelve 
and went to St. Ives’s room, where a large pile of 
letters lay on the table awaiting answers. He read 
them through without comprehension, staring stupidly 
at contents and signature. He was in the middle of 
this task when Lord St. Ives came into the room, 
looking anxious and annoyed. He gave brief direc- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


87 


tions for the answering of the first half dozen letters, 
muttering sentences expressive of some annoyance 
because Stewart had not been there earlier in the 
morning to open the whole correspondence. The 
reproof, which, to say truth, had been rather well- 
earned, vexed Geoffrey out of all proportion to its 
strength, and he scowled angrily. One of the docu- 
ments which Lord St. Ives asked him to read through 
carefully was in a very bad handwriting, and as the 
morning was rather dark he took it to the window 
to read it more easily. The sky was covered with 
heavy, black thunder-clouds, and from the window, 
which looked over the garden, he could see the figure 
of Helen standing a little way down the slope, outlined 
against the darkening sky. She was looking down 
into a clump of daffodils, with one arm thrown casually 
round her little daughter, who was standing by her 
side. The small, four-year-old boy, just home from 
one of his usual prolonged visits to his great-uncle, 
had got hold of a spade twice the size of himself, 
and was trying to dig with it, very much to the detri- 
ment of the daffodils. At intervals a slow, absent- 
minded smile would come over the face of the mother 
and daughter as they watched these efforts ; but other- 
wise there was a lassitude expressed in the two figures 
which filled Geoffrey with fury. He would have given 
the world for the right to run down and try to console 
them. He was paying no attention whatever to the 
document in his hand, and had no eyes for anything 
but Helen’s listless figure and unhappy face when St. 
Ives’s voice suddenly recalled him to business : 

“ Well, what is that screed of Cartwright’s about? ” 

Mr. Stewart hastily resumed his reading of the 
document in his hand and gave a summary of it. 

“ Oh, tell the chap to go and hang himself! How 


88 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


these antivivisection people do bother! As if I am 
going to accept all their statements for gospel, and as 
if I am going round the hospitals of London to verify 
them. Look here, Geoffrey, I am rather concerned 
about this man Hopper. You heard what I said to 
him this morning. Well, it was no more than I meant. 
His loose talk is becoming a positive danger. Do 
you know, Francis Robinson came up to me on the 
Linekilns, on Saturday, and told me he had heard 
as a positive fact that Hopper had tried to prevent 
that brute of his, Kansas, from winning the Two 
Thousand so that my creature. Midnight, might win? 
Of course one doesn’t believe stories of that sort ; the 
simple fact is, that this chap talks so much about all 
the things he means to do to make some horse win, 
that a lot of people believe he has bought every jockey 
in the race. I really can’t have that. He must be 
stopped, somehow, from talking as if a race finished 
just according to how much you paid every jockey in 
it. By Jove, I shall be hauled up before the Jockey 
Club one of these days and invited to explain the 
running of one of my horses ! ” 

“ He talks indiscreetly,” said Geoffrey, with a feel- 
ing as if some one were beating on his skull with a 
hammer. 

‘‘ You believe, I know, that it is worse than talk ; 
that he wouldn’t stop at talk.” 

The hammer beat on furiously. It was a pity, 
Geoffrey thought to himself vaguely, that his brain 
should be in such horrible confusion, because here 
was an opening provided by fate for the telling of 
his story, and it would look odd if he let it slip and 
began again later, apropos of nothing. But he hesi- 
tated for a moment, looking at Helen and reflecting 
rather angrily on the fact that St. Ives had spoken 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


89 


sharply to him a few minutes ago about his neglected 
duty. Even while he was thinking his chance van- 
ished. 

“ Well, well,” St. Ives was saying, with his usual 
easy toleration, “ I suppose we must make allowance 
for the man’s experiences on the American turf. He 
may do as he likes there ; and when you have done 
as you liked for a few years, you simply can’t obey 
rules if you try. I imagine that every man believes 
in the omnipotence of some instrument or other; one 
fellow thinks that his own will can do anything, another 
fellow that money can buy anything, and your French- 
man believes that everything comes to the person 
‘ qui salt attejidre.^ My own impression is that nothing 
is worth having when you get it; but that is only a 
very slight variant on the more popular belief, and I 
daresay the other fellows find that out too. Now let 
us tackle this education correspondence.” 

“ Are you going to do nothing more about Hopper 
and the story which Mr. Robinson has told you ? ” 

“No; what .more is there to do?” 

Geoffrey took up a Blue-book, recently issued by 
the Education Department, and a bundle of letters 
containing comments on some of its paragraphs, and 
buried his head in the mass of paper. But his brain 
utterly refused to be buried there too. 

“ If this sort of thing goes on,” said St. Ives at 
last, “ I can’t see what is to prevent the London School 
Board from founding a university and endowing a 
dozen professorships.” 

“ No, indeed ; they can do what they like.” 

“ Why, you were saying to me yesterday that the 
limitations were as fixed and hard as a stone wall. 
What do you mean ? Why have you suddenly changed 
your mind ? ’’ 


90 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ Oh ! I mean — I suppose they might do it if they 
tried.” 

“ Look here, Geoffrey,” said St. Ives, in extreme 
annoyance, ‘‘ if you’re seedy you’d better take a 
morning off. I can’t say it is a particularly convenient 
time, but if anything’s wrong you had better go and 
put it right. It is no good staying here talking and 
writing at random like this.” 

“ I’m all right,” said Stewart surlily. 

St. Ives controlled his irritation with a great effort 
and said more gently : ‘‘ Something is wrong, I see. 
Go off and put it right, and come back here at half- 
past two. I daresay I shall get on all the better for 
reading those letters through myself. Go into the 
garden and have a chat with Helen.” 

Half-relieved at this opportunity for a little more 
thought, and half-angry at the manner in which the 
opportunity had come, Geoffrey left the room without 
further words. Helen and Angela were crossing the 
hall as he came downstairs, and he ran down to join 
them, with outstretched hands. 

“Is there anything new?” he asked after saying 
a few words to the child. 

“ There is nothing new,” said the woman wearily, 
“ and no new comment to make on it. We are going 
to Northborough directly after lunch to stay with the 
Harleys and be bored by cathedral gossip for a week 
or two, until the first joy of one’s friends at hearing 
a piece of news such as last Thursday’s has blown 
over. Then I suppose we shall come back and pro- 
vide them with a little more scandal. Think of the 
excellent advice Mrs. Harley will give me during the 
next fortnight ! Won’t it be good for me ! ” 

“ Helen, for Heaven’s sake come down to Ince 
Weston for a bit, and let me send Maura there too. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


91 


and come down and see you myself whenever I can. 
Should you mind so very much roughing it for a bit ? 

“ Dearest old boy, I wish to goodness I was coming 
to you. Angela and I would be almost happy for the 
fortnight, instead of miserable and bored to death ; 
but I’m no good at roughing it, and, indeed, I don’t 
believe you’ve got a bedroom for us to sleep in on 
a rainy night. O Geoffrey! why on earth haven’t 
you some money? It would just make all the differ- 
ence in our lives ; wouldn’t it, Angela ? ” She flashed 
a look at the young man which thrilled through his 
soul and left him barely conscious of the meaning of 
words; and then he bent down over the little child, 
stroking her hair with shaking fingers. 

“ Perhaps I may have some very soon, Helen ; 
perhaps everything is going to come right in the end, 
like an old-fashioned story. You mustn’t ask me any 
more now. I shall know to-night — this afternoon, 
perhaps — and will tell you before anybody else. Wish 
me luck.” He was speaking in a stammering whisper 
and had taken both her hands in his and drawn her 
close to him, peering down at her as if he were half- 
blind with the passionate excitement of the moment. 
The red light from the great stained-glass window in 
the hall was deepening the colour on their flushed 
faces and accentuating the glow in the love-lit eyes 
which were gazing at one another. 

“ I wish you luck, all the luck in the world,” 
whispered the woman in reply ; “ and, O Geoffrey I do 
tell me soon ; tell me directly you hear the news. I 
shall be sick with anxiety till I hear what has hap- 
pened. I don’t think I will go this afternoon till 
five o’clock, in case you may be able to hear any- 
thing before then. Then, if it is good news — ” She 
looked up at him with such a fever of love and adora- 


92 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


tion in her eyes as completely stupefied the young 
man, who looked about him for a moment in dazed 
fashion, and then, without further words, took his hat 
and went out. He was shaking with the passion which 
Helen had communicated to him, and was scarcely 
conscious of what he was doing or where he was 
going till he arrived at the bottom of Campden Hill 
and began to look about for an omnibus. Then he 
realized the business on which he had come out, and 
called a cab instead. When it came up he stood still 
for a moment before getting into it, looking up Church 
Street, his mind a seething caldron of fear, doubt, 
shame, and love-fever ; then, suddenly, he called out 
to the cabman, “ i8 Throgmorton Street,” and was 
driven away. He was resolved to think no more, 
and chased thought away with a resolution and success 
which he would hardly have believed possible. He 
stared at the passing passengers with an intentness of 
gaze which made most of them look up at him and 
begin some signs of recognition ; he looked so 
long and fixedly at a house in Prince’s Gate, which 
was just being decorated with flowers for the summer, 
that months afterward he could remember every flower 
which was being put in the boxes. Once or twice he 
urged the cabman to hurry, and fretted with affected 
impatience when his hansom waited behind an omnibus 
and was stopped in a block of cross-traffic near Bond 
Street and Wellington Street. Arrived at Throg- 
morton Street, he told the cabman to wait, and 
ran upstairs to Hopper’s office, still fighting against 
thought. 

The American gave one look at him when he 
came into the room and said quietly : “ I see you have 
come to agree to my offer. I think you are quite 
wise, as your silence could hurt nobody. You will 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


93 


give me your word, of course, to say nothing to Lord 
St. Ives or any human being about my proposals to 
Cater, and even to deny all knowledge of them or 
belief in them, if necessary. And you will always do 
your best to help me to keep friends with Lord St. 
Ives? You see I am going to take your bare word 
for all this.” 

“ I give it you freely and fully,” said Stewart in a 
perfectly steady voice, but not looking at the other’s 
face. 

Without further words Cyrus Hopper wrote out 
a check for a million pounds, signed it, put it in an 
envelope, wrote on the counterfoil “ Personal expenses 
i 1, 000,000,” and gave it to Mr. Stewart. “ I will just 
write a note to the bank,” he said, “ in case they have 
to make up the amount with an advance ; but I have 
plenty of securities there to cover it, so you may 
send the check to your bank immediately. What 
story do you want told to account for your possession 
of the money? ” 

“ I can think of none, and shall simply refuse to 
answer any questions,” said Geofirey ; “ there is no 
way of accounting for such a sum. I — I think I will 
leave you now. I must go to my bank, and get some 
lunch, and be back at Cornwall House at half-past 
two.” 


7 


CHAPTER IX 


It was a few minutes past one o’clock when 
Geoffrey came out of the American financier’s office, 
and got into his cab and was driven to a branch of 
the National Provincial Bank in Kensington, where 
he kept his small account. During the drive he said 
to himself, again and again, that this deed being now 
done, he insisted upon giving himself up to an undi- 
luted enjoyment of it, and would not think any more 
about the right or wrong of what had taken place. 
The fact that he had nothing to do in exchange for 
this fortune made an immense amount of difference 
to him. The law, proverbially foolish, makes very 
slight distinction between a man who commits a crime 
and a man who looks on or otherwise passively toler- 
ates it; but in point of fact, there is the greatest gulf 
in the world fixed between the two. As much active 
courage is required to denounce a murder as to commit 
one ; and to be silent on either side requires no heroic 
quality at all. The man who would scorn the vastest 
bribe to perpetrate an evil deed would take a tenth 
part of the amount to leave a good deed undone, and 
go quietly to bed instead. And Geoffrey Stewart 
would not have taken ten million pounds to tell a lie 
which would have brought his patron into trouble; 
but he was willing to take a tenth part of the sum 
to hold his tongue and let the patron get into trouble 
by himself. The effort of modern daily life is increased 
94 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


95 


to such a point that the idea of extra effort is well- 
nigh intolerable. You cannot get up a quarter of an 
hour earlier, you cannot go an extra distance, or add 
one extra entertainment to your list without pangs of 
doubt and vexation. The already overburdensome 
routine of daily life cannot be further burdened by 
the denunciation of another man’s crime. And if you 
can find a man willing to pay you for lying on a sofa 
and keeping quiet, the more fortunate person you for 
finding him, and the greater fool he for paying. He 
has not realized the immense difference in the amount 
of energy which it takes to invent or repeat a slander, 
and to hear one with a subtle and enigmatical smile. 

A sudden qualm of doubt which came over Geoffrey 
as he drove back towards Cornwall House took all 
the pleasure out of his drive. The check must be a 
bad one ; it was impossible that any man, however 
rich, could part with such a sum of actual money so 
calmly. Payment of it would be refused. Having 
gained a little time by this ruse. Hopper would laugh 
at him and defy him to do his worst. It was in a 
state of profound despondency that Stewart arrived 
at his bank and asked to see the manager. 

Mr. Hutton was in, and Geoffrey was shown into 
his office. The balance kept by Mr. Stewart at the 
bank was an inconsiderable one, varying from five 
pounds to four pounds six shillings, which latter sum 
he had once been obliged, with many blushes and much 
stammering, to draw out. It is not, however, always 
his largest clients whom the bank manager welcomes 
with most kindness. 

'' Good-day, Mr. Stewart ; what can I do for you 
this afternoon ? ” 

‘‘When can you cash me this check?” 

The manager took the check out of the envelope 


96 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


which Geoffrey handed to him, looked at the signature, 
opened his mouth to say that he could cash it on 
the spot, and then, catching sight of the amount, kept 
his mouth open without further speech. 

“ It’s rather a large amount, as you see ; but there’s 
not much question, I imagine, about Mr. Hopper’s 
ability to pay.” 

“ Oh, none, none ! ” 

“ When can I have the money to use ? ” 

“ Mr. Hopper has possibly sent a letter to his 
bank about the payment of such an unusual check ? ” 

“Yes; I saw him write one.” 

“ Oh, well, I suppose in that case there would 
be no difficulty about your having the money in a 
day or two — say Thursday. Do you want us just to 
place it to your ordinary account ? ” 

“ Yes, please. And I say, Mr. Hutton, bank busi- 
ness is confidential, isn’t it? I mean you won’t tell 
anybody who asks about my affairs — where this sum 
of money came from ? ” 

“ Bank business, as you say, is quite confidential.” 

“ So that even if Lord St. Ives asked you any- 
thing ?” 

“We do not tell one client about another’s affairs, 
Mr. Stewart; you may make your mind quite easy 
about that,” said the manager. 

“ Thank you. I can leave the check here, then, 
and know that I may have some of it on Thursday. 
I am going to pay off all the mortgages round Ince 
Weston, so the money will melt out of the bank before 
the end of the year.” 

“ I am to congratulate you, I suppose, on having 
come into a fortune?” 

“Yes, oh, yes!” Stewart hesitated and looked 
uneasily round the room, while the manager watched 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


97 


him with curious eyes. Something was evidently 
wrong, and he was wondering if he knew the young 
man well enough to press for information and offer 
some much-needed advice. Men of his acquaintance, 
with a good deal more financial knowledge than this 
youth, had got into Mr. Hopper’s toils before now, 
and come out a good deal the worse for the experience. 
But Geoffrey got up to go, and, apparently, did not 
mean to disclose the truth about this extraordinary 
check. Mr. Hutton was sorry, but, of course, could 
not ask any more. 

Stewart reached Cornwall House at two o’clock and 
went into the dining-room, where Helen and her child 
were lunching by themselves. He supposed that he 
was looking very much as usual ; but, in point of fact, 
the excitement on his face was visible to the eyes of 
any one who cared to look ; and Helen hurried her 
daughter through meat and pudding, cut short her 
allowance of strawberries, gave her a handful of bis- 
cuits, and sent her into the garden before half-past 
two. Then she turned to Geoffrey with eager ques- 
tions. 

“ You are quite right,” he said. “ Something has 
happened — the right thing has happened — and I have 
got some money at last.” 

‘‘ Plenty of it?” 

“ Heaps of it ; what the little street boys call 
^ slathers ’ of it. Ince Weston shall be done up. I 
will get a house next to yours. Buy you everything 
you want. Buy race-horses, yachts, and anything 
else that occurs to me for myself, and ” 

“And marry a wife, and live happy ever after?” 

Helen had come to his side and put her hand on 
his shoulder, and was looking down at him with a glow 
of congratulation on her face. She asked the last 


98 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


question with a laugh of affected jealousy, which 
changed to deeper satisfaction as she heard the quiet 
and firm negative with which her question was an- 
swered. But Geoffrey seemed suddenly to become 
vexed with himself at the emphasis of his own reply, 
for he got up from the table and walked to an 
open French window leading down on to the lawn, 
where he stood looking out. 

“ Fm born for a bachelor,’^ he said, dragging out 
words at random which should, perchance, change the 
meaning of his last sentence. “ I’ve never felt inclined 
to marry anybody, and I don’t know why a lot of 
money should make any difference to me. But per- 
haps it will.” 

“ I hope not.” 

“ Why ? ” The young man laughed uncomfort- 
ably. '' You ought to begin immediately to look out 
for some youthful and beautiful person, and make a 
desirable match for her. Are you going to leave me 
to find one for myself ? ” 

Helen followed him to the window and put a hand 
again on his shoulder, which gave him a curious 
feeling of a cat putting claws there. She watched 
him for a second with her teeth slightly set and eyes 
which shone one moment and grew contracted and 
humid the next. 

“ Yes,” she answered, and then after a little pause: 

But I shall come and scratch her eyes out in good 
old-fashioned style when you have found her.” 

“ You won’t have to do that. I am quite satisfied 
with what I have.” 

He said the words in a breathless whisper; and 
then, with a little hesitation, for which the woman 
loved him, put an arm half round her. They stood 
together so for a moment looking out of the window. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


99 


with their hot hands and faces being fanned by the 
scented spring wind which was blowing to them across 
beds of wall-flowers and bushes of lilac and may. The 
man, who had lost his head completely under the 
first breath of passion which had ever touched his life, 
could see nothing, think of nothing, hear nothing ; the 
woman, who was enjoying herself with a little passing 
distraction, which she was essaying not for the first 
time and not quite for the hundredth, was more con- 
scious of extraneous sounds and emotions. There- 
fore, at the sound of a footstep outside, she withdrew 
herself quickly from Stewart’s arms, and recovered 
her presence of mind completely before her father 
had come into the room ; whereas Geoffrey, lacking 
such experience and rapidity of motion, could not 
immediately fall into an ordinary attitude, or confront 
Lord St. Ives with any approach to equanimity. The 
marquis glanced at the pair at first quite indifferently, 
merely asking whether they had finished lunch; then 
a slow-coming sensation of doubt and surprise drifted 
into his mind. The idea of a love-scene having taken 
place between these two certainly did not occur to 
him ; but it did occur to him that Helen had something 
to do with some bother which was evidently on 
Stewart’s mind, and he wondered rather irritably what 
on earth was wrong with his daughter now, and why 
she couldn’t tell him about it instead of worrying 
Geoffrey, and preventing him from doing his work. 
He sat down at the table, gave another glance at 
the pair, helped himself to some cold game, and asked : 
“ What’s the matter? ” 

- Stewart glanced at Helen, and, seeing by the vexa- 
tion on her face that she did not like this question 
or mean to answer it, lost his head again and looked 
so extremely alarmed that St. Ives put down his knife 


LoFC. 


100 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


and fork and said very coldly : “ I perceive that there 
is something wrong ; really, I should be greatly obliged 
if one of you would tell me what it is.’’ 

Utterly unable to think of anything to say in reply, 
and only confusedly aware that he must say something 
at once about his own affairs without compromising 
Helen, Geoffrey found himself forced into a premature 
confession. 

“ I have heard a most exciting piece of news about 
myself this morning,” he began stammeringly, fighting, 
even while he was speaking, to tell as little as he could, 
and to find some excuse for having told Helen about 
it before her father : “ I have come suddenly into a lot 
of money ; and, as Helen was the first person I saw 
when I came into the room just now, I was telling 
her about it. It really is most awfully exciting. It’s 
a big pile : the best part of a million.” 

“ My dear boy ! ” St. Ives jumped up from his 
chair and came up to the youngster with outstretched 
hands. “ I haven’t heard a better piece of news for 
ten years. I’m most awfully pleased. I’m sorry to 
be obliged to make you tell the story twice in a few 
minutes, but I must hear all about it. Where did it 
come from? When will it be ready to spend? How 
are you going to begin to spend it ? ” 

Very reluctantly the young man took the hand 
held out to him. A horrible shame, the first real feeling 
of it which had entered his mind, came over him. He 
said to himself in angry bewilderment that this confes- 
sion had been dragged out of him suddenly, without 
premeditation, and that after one hour of St. Ives’s 
company in his usual friendly mood, the check would 
have been returned to Hopper, and the true story told 
to St. Ives. Now it was too late. Everything was 
Helen’s fault; it was her influence, he told himself, 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


lOI 


which had made him decide to accept Hopper’s offer ; 
it was her presence now which had caused him to tell 
this irrevocable lie to his patron and most kind friend. 

“ I actually have the money ; or, to be exact, I 
have a check for it, and shall have the money on 
Thursday. You will imagine easily enough how I am 
going to spend it.” 

“ Where did it come from? ” 

The question found Geoffrey unprepared with any 
plausible answer. It was an inevitable question ; but 
it was only six hours ago that he had received the 
first proposal of this bribe, and a lie which shall be 
at once ingenious for the moment and warranted to 
last cannot be devised in a few hours. A good lie is, 
it is true, mostly a matter of inspiration, but of inspira- 
tion which comes suddenly after several days of 
thought. The ordinary haphazard lie may serve your 
purpose very well for the moment ; but, since it obvi- 
ously cannot have taken into consideration all circum- 
stances and possibilities, its weak points will probably 
succumb to any resolute attack. The inspiration which 
comes after two days’ careful consideration of all the 
weak points in your case is a different matter, and is 
rather in the nature of a carefully planned fraud which 
has been assisted by good-natured fortune. Mr. 
Stewart had this much of wisdom left in him, that he 
would not tell an utterly unconsidered lie. To refuse 
any answer whatsoever to an important question may 
lead to a certain amount of suspicion, but your com- 
panion has at least an equal suspicion of good motives 
and bad ; whereas, when he has once convicted you 
of lying, he suspects thereafter nothing but the bad. 
Accordingly, in answer to St. Ives’s last question, 
Stewart stated briefly that he was not just now at 
liberty to say how the money had come to him. 


102 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


St. Ives stared in astonishment, as well he might. 
A man who comes suddenly into possession of a 
million pounds has probably found it honestly, since 
the results of dishonest dealing are mostly to be 
reckoned in hundreds, and usually with six months’ 
imprisonment at the end of the reckoning. However, 
the dictum of a philosopher, “ omne ignotum pro 
magnifico” may be applied especially to motives ; and 
St. Ives merely imagined, as nine men out of ten 
would have imagined in his place, that some scruple 
of delicacy, or some business reason, was preventing 
Geoffrey from giving any more information about his 
fortune for a few days longer. The marquis hastily 
went over in his mind all the relatives whom the 
young man possessed on either side of his family. 
There were two of them, one a resident in Mexico, 
who were just capable of giving such a present to 
their kinsman or leaving it to him at their death ; and 
Geoffrey’s extraordinary position, as the penniless 
owner of a great house and hopelessly embarrassed 
estate, was sufficiently well known to make it quite 
possible that such a fortune would be left to him. It 
was not, certainly, very probable, because the two 
millionaires in question had families of their own and 
many nearer relatives than Geoffrey Stewart ; but, like 
most men who have lived in the world for half a 
century, St. Ives was quite prepared for the unexpected, 
and called nothing impossible until its opposite was 
done. A little adjustment of calculation and expecta- 
tion, in the present case, caused him to fix mentally 
upon the Mexican second cousin of the Stewart family 
as Geoffrey’s benefactor. He wished the gentleman 
in question the best of good fortune either in this 
world or the next as his case might require. 

Geoffrey, who knew his patron pretty well, was 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


103 


quite aware that after one rebuff St. Ives was not 
likely to ask any more questions. He would be 
curious, but his curiosity would be delicately silent at 
first and would presently die away into complete 
indifference. If a month could be tided over without 
the slightest suspicion of anything being wrong, 
Geoffrey might take his new place in the St. Ives 
family, and in their world, without any fear of its 
being questioned. When St. Ives trusted, he trusted 
absolutely; and whom he trusted, the outside world 
was quite ready to trust too. Geoffrey realized this, 
and hated himself for remembering it. He saw his own 
position being made easy because another man was 
too great to question it; and he loathed his position 
because, while it was being made easy it was being 
made irrevocable, and the man whose slightest sus- 
picion might have made a confession inevitable would 
admit no suspicion of any person or detail in this 
story. In truth, no sooner had St. Ives understood 
that there was any mystery about the origin of 
Geoffrey’s fortune, than he turned at once to the next 
question of what was to be done with it. In the 
discussion which followed every word was a stab to 
Geoffrey ; every suggestion, which showed how long 
and carefully St. Ives had considered his young kins- 
man’s position, brought a bitter pang to that kinsman 
now, when the position was about to be remedied 
by a horrible piece of treachery to his patron. A score 
of times he was on the point of jumping up and 
making any excuse, however absurd, for putting an 
end to the whole affair and returning the money to 
Hopper. Once, while St. Ives was speaking about 
the cost of repairs to the house, Geoffrey sat with 
bent shoulders and panting breath, making ready, 
directly St. Ives finished speaking, to break out with 


104 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


an assertion that the whole story was a bad joke 
which he had invented to amuse Helen, and which, he 
hoped, everybody would forget. But the words would 
not come, and the only result of his deliberation was 
that St. Ives noticed that he was not listening; and, 
making some kind excuse for his inattention, advised 
him to go out for a stroll and think over his affairs 
at leisure. The young man jumped up, stammering 
out half-coherent of gratitude and affection: ‘‘You 
have done everything in the world for me,” he said, 
turning a white face and flashing eyes to St. Ives. “ I 
should have been a wretched pauper, in debt half over 
Europe, with nothing to do and nobody to care a jot 
about me, if it hadn’t been for you. I wish I had 
ever done anything for you in return; but I haven’t. 
I haven’t even done your work well. You could have 
got a score of men to do it twice as well for half 
my pay, men who would have done you credit in the 
world afterward ; whereas you knew I should never be 
a credit to you or to anybody else. Even now there 
is nothing I can do for you to repay your help of 
the last ten years.” 

“ My dear boy,” said the other quietly and sooth- 
ingly, “ I do assure you that you are talking great 
nonsense. You’ve done my work almost perfectly, 
and if I could truthfully say that I had a regret about 
your new fortune, it would be a purely selfish annoy- 
ance at the idea that I must now get some one else 
to do it. I believe I made myself nasty this morning ; 
but how was I to know that it was such a crisis as 
this which was keeping you away from my letters ? ” 

“ And that just reminds me,” said Geoffrey, jump- 
ing up, “ that we have left all those education letters 
to be dealt with. Let’s come upstairs and work at 
them. Two hours’ hard work is exactly what my mind 


A FOOL’S YEAR 10$ 

wants at this moment to prevent it from disappearing 
altogether/' 

“Well, you may be right,” said St. Ives, “and 
certainly the letters want answering. You shall come 
and tackle mine this afternoon ; and one of these days, 
when you are in the Government and your corre- 
spondence gets too much for you. I'll come and 
tackle yours.” 

With a barely perceptible glance at Helen, Stewart 
went away to the library and sat at his window-table, 
saying to himself that if he had one atom of self- 
control left he would exert it now and finish this his 
last task. But apparently the requisite self-control 
was not there, for figures danced before his eyes, and 
the facts which he read and reread might have referred, 
for anything he knew to the contrary after their perusal, 
to War Office reform, India frontier politics, or the 
business of the Jockey Club. Where should he buy 
a London house? The arguments for and against 
certain streets and squares were a running river, on 
the far side of which lay the learned arguments of the 
Education Commissioners, and he could not cross 
the river to reach them. Could the real building of 
Ince Weston be finished in time to have a Christmas 
party there; would Helen join the party; and if so, 
must he invite her husband? Then, with a desperate 
effort, he made a few notes on a sheet of paper, only 
to find that less pleasant and even more insistent 
thoughts were coming to interrupt his work. Sup- 
pose the news of Hopper's proposal to the jockey 
came to Lord St. Ives's ears through other channels, 
as it perhaps might in spite of Hopper's most desperate 
efforts to stop it, would he, Stewart, be obliged to 
ridicule it, to treat this and all other stories of Hopper's 
iniquities with contempt and derision? Was his con- 


io6 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


tract simply to maintain the friendship between 
Hopper and the St. Ives family, and if this ceased for 
any preventable reason, would Hopper feel himself 
at liberty to tell the whole story of his transaction 
with Geoffrey? The idea of honour entertained by 
men of this description was perfectly incalculable ; for 
that matter, Geoffrey did not suppose that Cyrus 
Hopper kept such lumber in his mind at all ; he would 
do anything which seemed to be for his advantage at 
any moment which seemed most advantageous. Fear 
was in the young man’s mind, and a thousand regrets 
and self-reproaches. The charm of wealth would not 
begin to work yet. 


CHAPTER X 


The St. Ives family went to various entertainments 
that evening, and spread the news of Geoffrey’s fortune 
all over their little world. St. Ives’s guess that the 
money must have come from the Mexican cousin was 
repeated once or twice as a surmise, then as a proba- 
bility, and then as a fact. At a house where he went 
at midnight, Cyrus Hopper was told by some one 
that his friend Stewart had inherited a big fortune 
from a relation in Mexico, and with a grim smile 
Hopper said that he had heard of it. Piles of congrat- 
ulatory letters and telegrams lay on Stewart’s table 
next morning, and he turned them over, first with a 
feeling of pleasure in their obvious sincerity, and then 
with a sudden sick doubt as to what the writers would 
say if they knew the real origin of this fortune. But 
during the night he had made up his mind that further 
thought on this point would simply embitter every 
remaining hour of his life, and that he must either 
return the money or resolutely banish every recollec- 
tion of how he had obtained it. After breakfasting 
this morning he went to the city to see Hopper, who 
jumped up from his table with some alarm at the 
sight of the young man, anticipating that he had come 
to repudiate the agreement. For a week or two, 
Hopper thought, there would be some danger, but 
after that time his fears would come to an end. He 
himself had been to Newmarket on the previous after- 

107 


io8 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


noon and bought promises of silence from Cater and 
Jameson. Their unsupported assertions about what 
he had said would not, however, have done the Ameri- 
can much harm, and as both parties to the negotiation 
knew this, the price was not high. 

“ There is nothing to be feared from either of 
them,’’ said Hopper quite truthfully. “ I was merely 
asking Cater, as you will understand, how much he 
would take to ride my horse in the Derby instead of 
the Duke of Dorset’s. He goes away with a ridiculous 
impression that I am bribing him to do something 
with the Duke of Dorset’s horse. Even if he told 
his tale — as he won’t do now — to everybody at New- 
market, who cares? You were standing close by me 
at the time, unknown to Cater, and heard what I 
said; or, if that story is a little thin, you knew some 
days ago that I meant to ask him to ride for me in 
the Derby, and that I meant to offer him a big price 
to chuck his other engagement. It may not be eti- 
quette to do that over here, but how should I know 
the etiquette of your racing world ? Eh ? That 
sounds all right, doesn’t it, in case Jameson and 
Cater talk ? ” 

“ It sounds all right enough,” said the other 
gloomily; ‘‘and, of course. I’ll play my part. Well, 
I suppose I must consider myself safe.” 

“ And to tell you the truth, my dear chap, I think 
you must take yourself off now. For one thing, it’s 
a very risky matter to go on talking about a business 
of this sort, and for another thing I just simply haven’t 
got the time. Don’t you be coming here oftener than 
you can help, because very often I shouldn’t be able 
to see you if your life and mine depended on it. Cheer 
up and go and buy a house or two, and a horse or 
two, and a yacht, and a couple of motor cars, and then 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


109 


go and have a good luncheon. That will occupy the 
morning, and by the afternoon you will have forgotten 
where the money came from, and be as pleased as 
if you’d won it at Monte Carlo.” 

Instead of occupying his time in this expensive 
fashion, Geoffrey went back to Cornwall House, 
finished St. Ives’s correspondence for the morning, 
went to the bank to ask news about the check, and, 
hearing that it had been paid, walked aimlessly into 
Kensington Gardens wondering what he should do 
next. He felt a considerable reluctance to meet any 
friends, knowing the torrent of questions which would 
be poured over him and which he must smilingly 
refuse to answer for the present. Whether he should 
now take the trouble to invent some story to account 
for the possession of the money, or whether he should 
continue to refuse all explanation of its origin, was 
a question which was puzzling him extremely. The 
refusal would be sure to give rise to the wildest stories 
and suspicions : the Mexican cousin would not stand 
for a moment, and had better be denied at once ; and 
his brain utterly refused to give birth to even the 
most faintly plausible story. Stock-exchange specula- 
tion requires capital, and every friend he had in London 
knew the exact amount of his capital, which, even if 
invested and reinvested in the most wildly fluctuating 
stock, could not produce a tenth part of the sum for 
which he had to account; while no other form of 
gambling could produce even as much as that. He 
must simply avoid his friends for a few days, pretend 
to be overwhelmed with business, and trust that by 
the time he went among them again they would have 
invented an explanation of their own. 

Turning out of the gardens he drove down Victoria 
Street to the offices of a famous architect with whom 


8 


no 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


he was acquainted; and the great man being disen- 
gaged for the moment, Geoffrey asked him to come 
down to Ince Weston and arrange for the rebuilding 
of the house. More than once the architect had seen 
and regretted the ruined building, and was well con- 
tent to receive the order for its restoration. A long 
and pleasing conversation followed, and for the first 
time Stewart felt a real glow of pleasure in the pos- 
session of his money. An old picture of the house 
in its palmy days was in the office, and Geoffrey was 
well pleased to study it, and consider how soon he 
might be living in a house just like it. The two men 
agreed to go down there in a day or two, after which 
Stewart betook himself to a house-agent and asked 
what houses were to be let in Park Street. The 
answer, he was rather surprised to find, did not interest 
him as much as he had expected. The recent talk 
about his old home had revived thoughts and affections 
in which Helen had no part, and it was even with 
some distaste that he listened to all the desirable quali- 
ties of a house which was only three doors distant from 
that of Mr. Merivale. Standing here in the house- 
agent’s office, while the leaves of registers were being 
turned over and prices and details given to him, it, 
struck him suddenly with what curious rapidity his 
relations with Helen had changed during the last few 
days. He had met her at Newmarket last week as 
he had met her a thousand times before during the 
last twenty years: delighted to find himself near her 
again, ready to hear all her news of the previous few 
days ; to hear about her recent parties, pleasures, and 
difficulties ; the news of the children and her plans for 
the next week or two, as he would have been anxious 
to hear such matter from a favourite sister. He liked 
her frankly and openly and very much; liked her, 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


III 


perhaps, better than anybody else in the world, and 
would scarcely have hesitated to say so to any friend 
or relation. But from the first moment of their late 
meeting at Bury Hill House some curious new element 
had come into their relationship. At first he had 
noticed and disliked and forgotten it; then he had 
noticed it again, and become a little afraid ; now 
he knew well enough that the brother-and-sister 
friendship had come to an end, and that he was on 
very dangerous ground. But it had all happened too 
suddenly for thought ; he had been unable to check 
Helen or himself. What had made her speak to him 
and look at him like that at Newmarket? The latest 
escapade of her husband, which she had narrated to 
him there, had been nothing very serious — a mere 
attempt to introduce one of his music-hall friends to 
her in the dining-room of a Brighton hotel. If Dudley 
Merivale had never committed a worse offence than 
that against conjugal propriety his criminal record 
would not be a very serious one. There was nothing 
in this adventure which could have caused Helen to 
treat him as she had done that afternoon. Afterward, of 
course, when the story of the prize-fighters’ supper party 
was the last good joke of London dinner-tables, she 
might with more reason have behaved in this fashion ; 
but her behaviour then was, in fact, a mere continuation 
of the other business. Geoffrey Stewart, unused as 
yet to the vagaries of a woman who annexes a new 
follower because she is bored with the last, stood 
here wondering why he had suddenly become Lady 
Helen Merivale’s lover. 

A sudden tone of vexation in the house-agent’s 
voice recalled him to himself, and to the further fact 
that he was being offered a first-class bargain of a 
newly built red-brick mansion overlooking the park. 


II2 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


with a seventy years’ lease, for the ridiculous sum of 
eighteen thousand pounds. He murmured in ab- 
stracted fashion : “ It’s a wonderful bargain ; I think 
I’ll take that ; ” and felt about for his check-book as 
if to conclude the purchase on the spot, so that the 
agent stared at him and showed in his face an evident 
inclination to telephone to Hanwell for assistance. Mr. 
Stewart, however, woke up from his trance in time 
to express a wish to look at the house before buying 
it, and a clerk was accordingly sent round with him 
to Park Street. He went listlessly round a small, new 
house, where all the new building fashions were 
pointed out to him by his conductor, and he expressed 
wonder and admiration in docile, uncomprehending 
fashion. The house was three doors from Helen’s 
house ; should he or should he not take a house close 
to her? That was the only question in his mind. A 
stupidly reckless feeling, which was partly a desire 
to purchase pleasure at any cost and partly an irrita- 
tion that his money was not bringing him at present 
nearly enough pleasure, and that by some means or 
other he must contrive to increase the amount, made 
him go back to the house-agent’s and express his 
intention of buying the house on the spot. The man 
looked vexed and puzzled, and waved away the check 
which Geoffrey was preparing to write for him. 
“ Can’t I turn in Waring’s men this afternoon to furnish 
the place ? ” he asked wearily, and once again the 
house-agent looked at his telephone, with Hanwell 
evidently in his mind. For the moment he closed the 
negotiations by a murmured desire for references, and 
for an agreement in which lawyers must play their 
part. 

Mr. Stewart went away with a vague impression 
that he had done rather a good afternoon’s work, and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


II3 

returned to Cornwall House to dress for an early 
dinner preceding an early theatre. It was with con- 
siderable and not unnatural surprise that he saw Helen 
standing in the hall. She had left for Northborough 
the previous evening to stay there for a fortnight. 

“ But it was so awfully dull, Geoffrey,” she said, in 
an eager, pleading voice. “ I wanted so much to see 
what you were going to do, and I thought it just 
possible — not very likely, but just possible — that 
you might want my help. I wanted you to want 
my help. You must choose houses, and furnish 
them, and decorate them, and paint them — do every- 
thing to them, in fact, which a man thinks he 
can do, until he suddenly finds that there is more 
than one coloured chintz in the world, and more than 
one coloured wall-paper, and that every chintz does 
not match every wall-paper. Mayn’t I come and help 
match them ? ” 

“ Indeed you may. I have bought the house 
already.” 

“You’ve bought a house? Where?” 

“ Three doors from yours.” 

“ Three— oh ! ” 

The woman stood very still, and a person who 
knew her face well would have seen that she was 
excessively annoyed. She was so entirely unreal from 
head to foot, inside and out, that reality annoyed her, 
and decision and resolution flurried her; so that a 
man who meant what he said and carried out his 
resolve as soon as he had mentioned it was simply 
a nuisance. Hitherto she had only known one man 
who was financially capable of thus annoying her, and 
this man, Cyrus Hopper, had been difficult enough 
to manage. In the last resort, however, she had always 
been able to tell him that something which he proposed 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


1 14 

to do was a proceeding unknown to English Society, 
and likely to bring social reprobation on the doer ; and 
this argument had always been sufficient to check him. 
For a person who knew London social life as well as 
Geoffrey did, Helen really had no arguments, and she 
saw that the situation had already passed beyond her 
control. She had added a lover to her train who 
meant, apparently, to sweep away the train, and to 
rule herself in a fashion which was new to her, and 
might be extremely unpleasing. 

“ Geoffrey, you mustn’t be silly about me, you 
know. I’m not sure that I approve of that house. 
Perhaps you’d better not finish the deal just yet. I 
don’t think I want any of you quite as close as that.’^ 

“ Any of us? ” 

Well, I mean any of my particular friends. My 
good boy, you can’t think that you’re the only friend 
I’ve got in the world.” 

“ I mean to be for the future.” 

The woman looked at him apprehensively. She 
did not like this kind of thing. She had left North- 
borough, in point of fact, because the few hours spent 
there had been devoted to some extremely uncom- 
fortable lectures addressed to her with much force 
by her hostess, who had pointed out that scandal was 
already too busy with the name of Merivale, and that 
somebody, either husband or wife, must be rather 
more discreet for some months to come. Helen did 
not love a public scandal. She wished to amuse her- 
self, but was one of the rather large class of persons 
who were shocked and scared by finding their pro- 
ceedings chronicled at length in halfpenny papers. 
When she read in one of these journals that “ Lady 
Helen Merivale, exquisitely dressed in mauve, was 
walking in the park with Captain Hemley,” she gasped 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


IIS 

with anger and alarm, and wondered whether this 
omniscient and repulsive tattler knew all that she had 
said to Captain Hemley, and what he had said to her 
at lunch, and how long he had sat with her in her 
boudoir. If scandal had penetrated to Northborough, 
scandal had become dangerous, and for a few weeks 
she must certainly rest. It was awkward to come back 
and find that the lover to whom she had said more 
(and perhaps even meant more) than to any of the 
others, had taken it all very seriously, and meant busi- 
ness to such a point that he had taken a house almost 
next door to her. Dudley would probably make a row 
about a young man who behaved like that, and might 
even go to the Duke of Dorset and complain. Since 
the son had been born such complaints had been 
taken rather seriously. Yet, if there was a person 
in the world whom Helen would have excepted from 
her rules it was Geoffrey Stewart. He was a new lover, 
and if only for that reason rather interesting. Also, 
she liked him. 

Are you dining with the Lampsons to-night?” 
she asked very coolly, moving slightly away towards 
the foot of the staircase. “Yes? So am I. We are 
going on to see Wyndham afterward, aren’t we ? I sup- 
pose I must run up and dress, and I suppose you must 
too. Don’t be silly, Geoffrey ; whatever crimes you 
commit, however many people you rob, or murder, 
or — or do anything else to, never be silly about it. 
To be silly gets you and everybody else into more 
trouble than breaking all the Ten Commandments in 
one lump. Good-bye; come and sit next to me in 
the box or stalls, or wherever we are going, and let’s 
laugh together. A joke and a laugh cures all the 
nonsense and worry which the world every produced. 
Mind you sit next to me.” 


ii6 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Helen ran lightly upstairs, and the young man 
stood at the bottom of the staircase looking after her 
in such amazement as he had never felt before in his 
life. Here was a woman who yesterday afternoon 
had in effect offered herself to him body and soul ; who 
had gone up to a distant Yorkshire town the previous 
evening, and come back twenty hours afterward, alleg- 
ing that she had returned in order to see him and help 
him. When he accepted her statement and responded 
to it, she advised him not to be silly, and ran upstairs 
to dress for dinner, recommending him to come and 
laugh at a comedy on the stage. If she wanted to 
make a fool of a new man, were there not twenty to 
her hand without including an old and real friend 
like himself? Were women ever so hard up for a 
man to add to their train that they were obliged to 
seize a brother? Geoffrey stood for nearly five min- 
utes at the bottom of the staircase looking up it after 
his disappearing lady; and there was a mist over his 
eyes and a new soreness in his heart which told him 
more o^ the truth about his own feelings than he at 
all cared to know. 

Whatever plans might have been made by Helen 
for his comfort afterward, the arrangement of the 
dinner-table left him altogether separated from her. 
He was placed on the left of his hostess, Cyrus Hopper 
being on the right ; and the hostess in question was 
more interested than flattered by the attention which 
both her neighbours paid to every word and movement 
of Lady Helen Merivale and their total indifference 
to herself. 

It was quite obvious that when they reached the 
theatre the two men would devote all their tactical 
skill to obtaining seats by Lady Helen’s side, and 
Mrs. Lampson promised herself some slight amuse- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


II7 

ment in watching their manoeuvres. But she was des- 
tined to disappointment. As her party stood in the 
hall waiting to drive away, a messenger drove up and 
put a letter into Mr. Hopper’s hands. With a slight 
motion of apology he opened it, and then came up 
to Mrs. Lampson with white face and scarcely audible 
words, regretting that he must leave her party and 
go elsewhere “ to attend to some very important 
business.” 


CHAPTER XI 


Hopper gave a direction in Belgravia to his coach- 
man while within hearing of the Lampsons’ servants, 
but afterward changed it to the Savoy Hotel. He held 
the letter crunched up in his hand, and there was a 
look of such fury on his face as would have discom- 
posed the nerves of the person whom he was about 
to visit if he or she could have seen it. Geoffrey 
Stewart did, in fact, catch sight of it as the American 
drove off, and having some reason to connect his 
own affairs with Mr. Hopper’s moods, came immedi- 
ately to the conclusion that something had gone wrong 
with the business with which he was concerned. He 
passed an hour of such unmitigated torture as he had 
never experienced in his life, and just before the end 
of the first act muttered an apology to his hostess, 
and left the theatre in search of Hopper. Helen saw 
his departure with amused eyes. The pique of a 
slighted lover was a sufficiently familiar spectacle to 
her, but it could always raise a smile. 

The lady, however, was as much mistaken in the 
cause of her lover’s departure as the lover was mis- 
taken in the cause of Mr. Hopper’s scowls. The mil- 
lionaire’s letter was not concerned with a “ slump ” in 
Northern Pacific stock, or bank-balances, or turf 
scandals ; on the contrary, it was a letter which might 
have pleased some men considerably, and its two short 
sentences seemed hardly capable of scaring a fly. The 
letter ran: 

ii8 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


II9 


“ My Dear Papa : 

“ It was so dull in Chicago, and Cousin Elinor 
wanted so much to see some friends of hers over here, 
that Frances and I have persuaded her to come over 
for a few weeks. We haven’t seen you for nearly 
three years, so I am sure you will be glad to see us 
again, and I hope you will come to us as soon as 
you have an hour or two to spare. 

“ Your loving daughter, 

“ Patricia Hopper.” 

The letter had been marked Immediate ” and sent 
to his rooms at Claridge’s Hotel, whence, in deference, 
presumably, to the heavy underlining of “ Immediate,” 
it had been forwarded to the Lampsons’ house. 

Almost beside himself with rage, the man jumped 
out on his arrival at the Savoy and went into the 
manager’s office, where he looked out the next steamer 
back to America, and booked three passages on board 
it. Then he gave a brief, emphatic order that the 
names of the three ladies who had just arrived should 
be erased from the visitors’ book and on no account 
be sent to any of the London papers, and with a few 
more vigorous oaths took his way upstairs to his 
daughters’ sitting-room. 

A small, meek-looking lady of some fifty summers, 
with thin wisps of straw-coloured hair parted in the 
middle and waving over her ears, with an extremely 
smart yellow-and-black lace dress, which told most 
clearly its own story of having been put on in deference 
to the wishes of younger folk, and now feeling very 
uncomfortable, rose to receive Mr. Hopper. There 
was grievous doubt on her face and in the gesture 
with which she put out her hand to welcome him. 
The doubt was soon dispelled. 


120 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ What’s the meaning of this nonsense, madam ? 
Who the devil gave you leave to come dancing over 
here in search of your infernal friends ? ” 

“ I thought, Cousin Cyrus ” 

“ D — n it, don’t call me by that idiotic name over 
here ! Do you suppose I want every one to know that 
I am a relation of yours? I assure you I am not at 
all proud of the fact.” 

“ The girls wanted so much to see you again. 
Surely it was very natural of them to want to see 
you after three years’ separation. So we came.” 

“That’s a lie, ma’am. You came to see that ras- 
cally nephew of yours, who’s been kicked out of 
every newspaper office in New York, and is skulking 
about London picking up lies and slander to sell for 
a few dirty cents to some gutter-rag in San Francisco ; 
and you’ve dragged my daughters with you in spite 
of my repeated orders. Now I tell you in five words 
what you are going to do. There’s a steamer leaving 
Southampton for New York on Saturday, and you’re 
going on it, all three of you. To-night you can pack 
up, and by the first train to-morrow you can go across 
to Paris and stay there till Saturday. The girls can 
buy dresses there all the time, and you can do the 
same, if you like to make such a sight of yourself 
as you are now. I’ll pay the bills for that jaunt, if 
you do as you’re told and go home afterward. You 
dare to come back again here like this and I’ll turn 
you out of the house and never give you another 
penny. Then, you know, you’ll starve, and your young 
devil Ellis will starve too.” 

This polite address, plenty more of which seemed 
to be forthcoming, was cut short by the entrance of 
Mr. Hopper’s two daughters, at whom he stared 
silently for the space of half a minute with an expres- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I2I 


sion of such disgust and anger as the appearance of 
the girls hardly seemed to justify. They were a tall, 
decidedly graceful pair, fair-haired and pink-cheeked, 
with no very remarkable beauty about either of them, 
but with a general air of light and laughter and activity 
about their faces and figures which made both of them 
decidedly pleasing to look upon. Their ages were 
apparently something just over twenty, and even to 
the masculine eye it was quite obvious that their dress 
was the perfection of pretty simplicity, and that the 
bill for it would make somebody sit up and stare. 

The girls had been laughing at something when 
they came in, probably at what was going to happen, 
for they ran up to their father, saying: “ Now, papa, 
you are going to be awfully angry with us for coming ; 
we know that quite well ; so just get it over, and 
scold away as hard as you like for an hour or two, 
and then take us out and amuse us. We are just dead 
with boredom. That old ship was as dull as the grave, 
and we were awfully sick all the time, besides. Where 
are you staying yourself, anyhow? Is it nicer than 
this? Shall we come and stay with you? Say, papa, 
where can you take us to amuse us this very evening? 
Are you just moderately vexed about our having come, 
or are you real mad? He looks pretty mad, doesn’t 
he, Frances?” 

“ When you’ve quite stopped chattering,” said 
Hopper in his harshest voice, you’ll kindly listen to 
me for a minute. I’m not ‘ moderately vexed ’ about 
your coming over, or ‘ mad,’ or anything else. I don’t 
care a red cent about it, because you’re going away 
first thing to-morrow morning, and I sha’n’t see you 
again likely for another three years, and likely for 
longer. You’re going to Paris first thing to-morrow 
morning, and back to America on Saturday. I’ve 


122 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


told your cousin all about to-morrow, and Tve taken 
your passages for Saturday, so there’s nothing to be 
done now except for you to pack up and go to bed, 
and me to go home.” 

The two girls turned and looked at one another. 
This was apparently an emergency for which they 
were not quite unprepared, and it appeared, too, that 
they made up their minds what to answer, and even 
who was to deliver the answer, for Patricia began 
to speak in a laughing voice which had a most unmis- 
takable tone of resolution in it : 

“And now that’s very unkind of you, papa. We 
did want to see London, and you must know it through 
and through. We’ve come over with scarcely a dozen 
introductions to folks here, because we thought you’d 
take us about everywhere. Must we really go every- 
where by ourselves ? ” 

“ No ; your cousin can take you. She’ll take you 
to Paris to-morrow and to Southampton on Saturday.” 

“ Oh, but, papa, we really must see London first ! ” 

The man turned gray with rage. “ What do you 
mean by repeating that after what I have just told 
you ? ” 

“We only mean that naturally we’d like you to 
take us round London ; but if you haven’t got time 
we are willing to go by ourselves.” 

Hopper looked round him helplessly. In a moment 
of insanity, as he now regarded it, he had made some 
financial arrangements by which his cousin Elinor 
Vansittart was left in complete possession of a large 
sum of money, which she was to spend on the main- 
tenance of the girls, and to divide between them at 
her death or on their marriage. This was the begin- 
ning of a series of arrangements by which Cyrus 
Hopper meant to get rid of his family altogether and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


23 


never see them or hear of them again. He did not 
wish anybody, even the girls themselves, or their rela- 
tives, to call him mean; so the -allowance made over 
to Miss Vansittart was a very large one, and left the 
girls perfectly able, if such an idea occurred to them, 
to travel all over the world in the most comfortable 
fashion. At the time of the settlement Cyrus had 
indeed said something to Miss Vansittart about keeping 
the girls in America for some years ; but he had never 
written since, partly because all his family affairs bored 
him, partly because he did not wish any of his rela- 
tives to know that he was in England or anything 
about his doings there. Now they had found out his 
address by some inexplicable means, and had come 
over to see him and ruin him. Everywhere in London 
he was known as a rich bachelor, without a single tie 
in the world except his own whims, with a huge 
fortune, and a quite moderate number of years over 
his head. It was not so much the fact of having 
two daughters of this age which would injure him, 
since a man may very well own to two girls of twenty- 
two and twenty-three without risk of being put down 
as an old man or a pauper. What people would not 
very easily forgive would be the silent and sometimes 
even active deception which he had practised. He had 
talked and behaved as an unencumbered bachelor ; on 
reflection, he was not quite sure whether he had or 
had not sometimes distinctly stated that he was one. 
The thought of the lie annoyed him now; it was so 
perfectly senseless, so utterly unnecessary ; but, having 
been told, it certainly must not be found out. He 
turned to his cousin, trying hard to control his intense 
wrath and to speak soberly : 

“ You’ve got some control, I suppose, over these 
two girls ; they must respect some authority, and may- 


124 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


be it’s yours. You must use it, ma’am; for their own 
sakes you’d better use it. If they’re going to defy 
me, it’ll be the worse for them.” 

The poor lady trembled and stammered, and began 
a very keble remark about paternal authority; but 
Frances broke into it with an embarrassing question : 
“Why do you mind our coming here, papa? We 
talk quite properly, and we are quite well dressed.” 

Hopper turned to her with the sense of relief 
with which one turns to an unknown quantity in a 
dispute where the forces are equal. Miss Vansittart 
was evidently a nonentity; his daughter Patricia was 
a match for him ; perhaps the other girl might be 
induced to take his side. 

“ My dear, there are many reasons why I object 
to your visit. In the first place, I have a very important 
financial affair on hand which will occupy all my time ; 
and, in the second place ” — he hesitated for a moment 
and then had an inspiration — “ in the second place, I 
cannot have two daughters of mine dropping into 
society in London in this haphazard fashion. I prefer 
to announce several weeks beforehand that you are 
coming, to ask my chief friends to introduce you and 
look after you, to do the whole thing more soberly 
and thoroughly than would be possible in such a 
sudden and utterly unexpected visit.” 

Frances seemed rather impressed, but the other 
girl laughed. “ You’ve made all that up on the spot, 
papa, and very clever it is of you to have thought of 
such a good-sounding reason in such a short time. 
But it’s all nonsense, you know. We can get along 
very well without so much preparation as all that. 
You need only just tell about six people to-morrow 
that we’ve arrived, and let it be put in the papers, 
and we’ll do all the rest. Now be kind to us, there’s 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


125 


a good dad, and don’t talk any more rot about our 
going back to the States on Saturday, because we’re 
just simply going to stay here.’' 

Cyrus Hopper took up his hat and walked to 
the door. His face was very gray and his lips were 
twitching. His expression was not good to see as 
he stood with a hand on the door-handle and eyed 
the three women, as if debating whether it would be 
quite safe to lock the door and throttle them. “ Be 
kind enough to listen to what I am going to say,” 
he began. “ You must stay here if you will; I cannot 
have you turned forcibly out of London ; but I tell 
you this as my absolutely final resolve. If I find any 
of you here at mid-day to-morrow, I will never give 
any of you another farthing of money in my life ; 
and if I can possibly manage it, I will have you ” — 
he nodded towards Miss Vansittart — turned out of 
the place which I have given you, and I will take 
all your money away. You will find me rather a nasty 
person to offend.” And with this kindly, paternal 
address he left the room and banged the door. 

Would they go? Miss Vansittart, he calculated, 
would mildly advocate a departure, Patricia would 
strongly oppose it, Frances would balance arguments 
judiciously, but would probably side with her guardian. 
He drove along the Embankment, cursing the three 
women, the Embankment road, London society, and 
his own short-sightedness, with a vigour which made 
his coachman tremble as the curses poured through 
the windows. They would not go away; the more 
he thought of Patricia’s laughing face and resolute 
voice, the more certain he was that they would not 
go. Another stream of curses came from his lips as 
he found Geoffrey Stewart waiting for him in the 
hall of the hotel. In answer to his eager questions. 


9 


126 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Hopper answered furiously that the letter and his 
sudden departure from the Lampsons had nothing 
whatever to do with Geoffrey’s business; that he was 
sick of Geoffrey’s business, and would tell the whole 
story to every one in London if the young man 
came to bother him about it again. Then, suddenly, 
an idea occurred to him, and his tone changed. Here 
was a man bound by the best of all possible chains to 
Mr. Hopper’s interests, obliged to keep his secrets, 
to speak and act for his advantage, to help him in 
every matter which affected his credit. Why not tell 
Stewart his trouble and ask his advice and help ? With 
a sudden transition to affability Cyrus asked the young 
man to come to his room, ordered up whisky, cham- 
pagne, and all the other accompaniments of business, 
and began his story : 

“ Have I ever told you, Mr. Stewart, that I am 
a widower with two daughters ? ” 

Geoffrey stared, and answered with a brief nega- 
tive. 

“ That is so, anyhow, and the little devils have 
come to London. They are here now. What am I 
to do with them ? ” 

Ask them to dinner. Don’t send them back to 
America. Marry them to stray dukes. Surely such 
people are pretty well known in London by this time, 
and have places ready marked out for them.” 

“ But I’ve never told anybody that they exist.” 

“ Well, tell ’em now.” 

“ You’re not very bright to-night. Can’t you see 
that everybody will be mad at my having kept it 
dark so long? What would Lord St. Ives say? What 
would Lady Helen say? They both think I am a 
bachelor.” 

“ Why should they think so ? And why shouldn’t 


A FOOL’S YEAR \2J 

they ? Look here, my good chap, what are you driving 
at? Out with it” 

“ To be frank, IVe told a few lies during the last 
year or so, and people won’t like it when they find 
it out.” 

“ No ; I daresay they won’t. Do the girls mean 
to stay ? ” 

“Yes, just at present they do; but I want you 
to do something for me. Go and see them to-morrow 
and persuade them to go over to Paris, and to go 
back to New York on Saturday. Make love to them, 
offer to take them over, to buy them dresses, to show 
them the theatres, Bayreuth operas, Ostend casinos, 
Swiss mountains, and any other tomfoolery you can 
think of. Only get them away from London. I will 
stand all expenses.” 

Stewart laughed lazily, stretched himself, consid- 
ered for a moment, laughed again, and said : “ The 
idea sounds rather funny. I don’t see what mischief 
they can do you, but I don’t mind going to them and 
representing to them the necessity of a prompt adjourn- 
ment to Paris. Why didn’t you stop them from com- 
ing over if you mind it so much ? ” 

“ Stop them ? D — n the little beasts, how could 
I stop them? I haven’t seen them or heard of them 
for three years, until I suddenly got a note to-night 
to say they were at the Savoy. Go round first thing 
to-morrow morning and turn them out of the country, 
there’s a good chap, and I shall be eternally your 
debtor.” 

At an early hour next morning Mr. Hopper sent 
round a private inquiry to the Savoy as to whether 
his family had left or was showing any symptom of 
leaving. The answer was that they had invited some 
guests to lunch, and were at that moment superintend- 


128 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


ing the unpacking of their trunks. Also, it appeared, 
they had made several inquiries as to the nearest place 
at which racing could be witnessed, and on hearing 
of an approaching meeting at Kempton Park had 
expressed their intention of going there. Mr. Hopper 
ground his teeth, and began to understand the exact 
state of mind experienced by people who tear their 
hair. His own hands went up to his head, and he 
seized a few locks and tore at them with convulsive 
passion. Then he summoned Stewart to the telephone, 
and begged him once more to lose no time in inter- 
viewing and remonstrating with the new arrivals at 
the Savoy. 

Geoffrey went round to the hotel just before mid- 
day, and was shown up into the girls’ room, where 
they and Miss Vansittart were looking over pro- 
grammes of amusement. He introduced himself 
briefly as a friend of Hopper’s who knew all the cir- 
cumstances of his life, and had been asked by him to 
come there and learn what his daughters proposed 
to do. 

“ What are we going to do, Patty ? ” asked the 
elder sister, and the younger one answered promptly : 
“ I guess we’re going to stay right here as long as 
we’re amused; and from what I can see, that’s likely 
to be for a very long time. Either London or papa 
alone will fill me right up to the brim with fun, but 
the pair of them together are just too lovely for any- 
thing.” The girl laughed a clear, ringing laugh of 
pure pleasure, and looked at Geoffrey as if she found 
him a not inconsiderable item in the joke. 

Geoffrey eyed her with some admiration and more 
doubt. Her amusement was young and genuine, but 
it did not look quite warranted to last, and there was 
a suggestion of temper in the young lady’s mouth. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


129 


and a resolution in her chin, which intimated that if 
the interview became serious there would be a row, 
in which Miss Patricia Hopper would be first and the 
rest of the company nowhere — or, at any rate, anxious 
to be nowhere. 

“ Then you’re not thinking of going to Paris 
to-day ? ” asked Geoffrey politely. 

‘‘ No, we are not,” said Miss Hopper quite briefly. 

Can you tell me what’s wrong with papa over here 
that he’s in such an almighty hurry to get rid of us? 
We are very well dressed, very respectable people, 
with plenty of things to talk about and plenty of good 
stories to tell anybody; and, really, Frances is very 
pretty — by candle-light, you know, and with a becom- 
ing frock on ; so he can’t be ashamed of us. I guess 
he has done something over here that ain’t quite 
square, and he’s in a blue funk of our finding it out.” 

Geoffrey laughed, and began to congratulate him- 
self on his visit. This girl was certainly first-class fun, 
with a very accurate knowledge of her father in spite 
of her prolonged separation from him, and a very 
outspoken way of expressing painful suspicions. 
Stewart was rather inclined to sympathize with the 
father, and still more inclined to conclude his present 
mission before Miss Hopper began to cross-examine 
him about the exact species of her father’s misdeeds. 
A more hopeless mission nobody ever undertook. 

“ You quite mistake your father’s motive,” said 
Stewart, taking up his hat with a smile. “ The real 
fact is, he is desperately busy, and is rather afraid that 
if everybody knows he has two daughters in London 
he will be asked to bring them here and there, and 
every one will take it for granted that he wants to go 
about with them everywhere, and he will be bothered 
with invitations. That would happen directly it is 


130 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


known that you were his daughters and meant to 
stay here/’ 

“ We’ll call ourselves his nieces if he likes, or his 
grand-daughters, or his fourth cousins three times 
removed, but here we mean to stay.” 

Geofifrey began to think that he had found a possible 
compromise. “ I really believe,” he said, “ that that 
would make a difference. Do you mean ” — he looked 
quickly round the three ladies — “ that you would be 
willing to say something of the sort, to call yourselves, 
let us say, Mr. Hopper’s cousins? I will suggest it 
to him if you don’t mind.” 

Patricia shrugged her shoulders. “ If he prefers 
that, he can do it for anything we care ; but I should 
like to know what all this fuss is really about. You 
wouldn’t like to tell us, would you, Mr. Stewart? 
Are you a secretary of papa’s, or a partner, or a clerk, 
or something? ” 

“ Certainly not,” answered Stewart curtly ; and at 
the anger in his voice the two girls and their cousin 
looked at one another with a flash of surprise. Appar- 
ently this young man was not exactly proud of being 
mistaken for a fellow-worker with the great million- 
aire. For the first time a little shadow of unreasonable 
disquietude crossed Miss Vansittart’s mind with regard 
to Cyrus Hopper’s position and work in London. 
Was anything really wrong? 

Come back and see us,” Patricia was saying 
cordially to Mr. Stewart as he left, “ and tell us what 
relation we are to our father. Likely we may want 
to know this afternoon, so come in to lunch, if you 
can trust three women to give you enough to eat. 
Will you come? ” 

Geoffrey accepted with an amount of pleasure which 
surprised himself. The girl looked so gay and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I3I 

charming, chaffed him so frankly about his errand, 
and showed so much good temper and good sense 
over her father’s unreasonable behaviour, that he was 
delighted with her, and quite ready to take her side 
in any row which Hopper might make. He went back 
to Claridge’s and told Hopper frankly that there was 
not the remotest chance of his daughters leaving 
London, and that there was no real reason why they 
should, as they did not want to annoy him. The 
millionaire accepted Patricia’s offer with a sulky curse. 
“ You can tell them from me that they are my first 
cousins once removed, and they’d better pay a good 
deal more attention to the remove than to the cousin- 
ship, or it will be the worse for them. Tell them 
once for all from me that if they meet me by accident 
anywhere, they’d better come and talk to me just 
enough not to look odd ; but I’ll take them nowhere, 
and I’ll introduce them to nobody, and I’ll never 
come and see them. And you’d better tell them that 
so long as they don’t bother me they can have any 
reasonable amount of money they want. They must 
write to me and ask for it. O Lord, I do wish 
they’d been drowned coming over ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


Mankind’s curiosity about his neighbour is 
aroused by methods and for reasons which are 
totally incalculable. One murder or theft in one part 
of the country will be reported in half a dozen lines 
of the daily papers, and the odds are a thousand to 
one against even these few lines being read; while 
a precisely similar crime in another part of the country 
will be noticed immediately, the details of it will be 
discussed with profound interest, and the newspapers 
will vie with one another in giving reports of the 
trial. One society scandal will send a rustling whisper 
of excitement through half the drawing-rooms in 
London ; another, concerning equally great personages 
and full of the raciest episodes, will be greeted with 
a yawn and a weary comment of: “At it again, are 
they? ” One political debate affecting half a continent 
and millions of money will be listened to by twenty 
sleeping members, and interrupted every half hour 
by attempts to “ count out ” the House ; while a war 
of personalities about some trivial question will be 
listened to by crowded, delighted audiences, and will 
occupy three-quarters of the space devoted next morn- 
ing to the parliamentary reports in the newspapers. 
The average newspaper editor will tell you that he 
knows beforehand, to an inch, how much news the 
public will demand on any given subject; but, even 
if you believe him, you are quite aware that such 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


133 


talent is confined to newspaper offices. If you your- 
self slew a man in the street this afternoon, it would 
be a pure toss-up whether you were arrested, tried, 
and hanged amid the execrations of a vast and howling 
mob, or whether you were so treated without your 
brother happening to hear of it. 

Geoffrey Stewart found to his astonishment and 
great relief that nobody seemed to care a rap where 
his money had come from, and that the few who did 
care had contentedly accepted St. Ives’s statement 
about the cousin in Mexico without further thought 
or trouble. What Mr. Stewart did not know, and 
what people in his position mostly do forget, is that 
suspicion, which need not arise at once and need not 
arise at all, is a dreadful business when it has arisen. 
Seeing that nobody suspected him, Geoffrey began 
to entertain a light-hearted contempt for popular 
scandal of every description, and grew daily more 
careless as to what he said or did about his sudden 
change of fortune. St. Ives asked one more question 
about its origin ; but being told, with many apologies, 
that Geoffrey was not at liberty to say anything yet, 
he spoke no more, partly in utter lack of any curiosity, 
partly in polite respect for Stewart’s disinclination to 
confide in him. Geoffrey wondered, and awaited a 
catastrophe which did not come, and wondered more. 
He heard a score of ridiculous rumours about the 
amount of his fortune, and a dozen more about what 
he meant to do with it, but nothing as to its origin. 
He could not understand why people cared nothing 
about this, but reserved all their curiosity and all their 
wildest speculations for the amount. But noting the 
fact, and being himself peculiarly susceptible to the 
effect of popular opinion, he grew indifferent to what 
had happened. A man who might have come to him 


134 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


and stated the circumstances of the transaction in bald, 
brief language, would have reduced Stewart to an 
agony of humiliation and penitence, and after two or 
three such experiences the young man would very 
possibly have returned the bribe and denounced its 
donor ; but the silent indifference which followed 
reacted on Geoffrey himself in the strongest manner. 
Ignoring the fact that nobody suspected him of obtain- 
ing his fortune dishonestly, he gradually supposed that 
his world knew and condoned the dishonesty, and he 
accepted its ignorance as complicity. A fortnight 
had scarcely gone by, and he was on the verge daily 
of telling the circumstances to some neighbour as a 
good joke, like a debtor who believes that his manner 
of life is a well-accepted comedy, until one day he 
laughingly mentions his debts to a companion and is 
staggered by his outburst of disapprobation. There 
is no situation of life to which a man cannot get accus- 
tomed in a fortnight, and this fact becomes dangerous 
when he does not realize that the situation, which is 
stale and uninteresting to him, is novel and horrible 
to the friend in whom he confides. 

Partly by accident and partly by calculation, Geof- 
frey Stewart behaved with much wisdom during this 
period. Instead of staying in London to bandy ques- 
tion and answer, he spent most of his time at Ince 
Weston, leaving the questions to be answered by 
other people, and passing some very pleasant hours 
in planning the repair of his home. The arrange- 
ment of this advanced smoothly and rapidly ; very 
soon an army of workmen had come from London 
and from the towns of his own neighbourhood to 
work on the ruined house and grounds. Geoffrey was 
never tired of watching them, of walking about among 
them, following the busy labour of this man as he 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


135 


weeded garden-paths or pulled down the rotten frame- 
work of some wrecked conservatory, of another man 
as he scraped the walls of the bed-rooms or the arches 
of an entrance-gate, to note the damage and prepare 
their restoration. The workmen knew him well at 
last, and bitterly resented his rambling walks among 
them. He was interested in their task and wanted it 
finished, and finished well. The workmen there 
engaged, whose ideal labour was a job on the roof 
of a house, where they could sleep peacefully without 
fear of interruption, loved the young man as one loves 
any person whose ideal differs completely from one’s 
own, and who is able rudely to enforce his opposing 
principles. 

Stewart came to Newmarket for the Third Spring 
Meeting, and stayed at Bury Hill House. He bought 
two or three race-horses, registered some colours, won 
a race or two at the meeting, and was quietly pleased 
with himself. Lord St. Ives’s horse. Midnight, won 
the Newmarket stakes, from which Chancellor was 
an absentee ; nevertheless, Geoffrey looked round him 
in nervous anticipation of comment. Had any trick 
been played after all? He muttered a question to 
Cater, who assured him that it was all right this time, 
and that Midnight was not running up to his best 
form in the Two Thousand. The Derby was not such 
a certainty for Chancellor as every one supposed. 
Stewart eyed the jockey doubtfully, wondering whether 
any trickery had been arranged after all. Hopper, he 
felt sure, was an incorrigibly dishonest person, and 
simply bent on getting his own way. If anything 
went wrong, and the transaction between Geoffrey 
and Hopper were discovered, people would say that 
he had been paid to take part in a common turf- 
fraud. He began to dislike the afternoon’s sport in 


136 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


this quiet old town, an afternoon which he had once 
regarded as among the pleasantest hours of the year. 
To-day the business side of this sport was always to 
the fore in his mind. His own large share in its 
dishonesty seemed to him now only a piece of a long, 
gigantic swindle. He watched the English and Ameri- 
can jockeys who had formerly seemed to him only 
skilful horsemen giving a fine exhibition of their skill, 
and wondered now, in every race, which of the men 
was riding to win. He could not have ten minutes’ 
chat with a trainer without trying to find doubtful 
meanings in the man’s words and smiles and silences. 
He had never supposed that the English turf was a 
paradise of virtue, or that the training and riding of 
every horse in every race would bear the strictest in- 
vestigation ; but he had never before been haunted with 
the idea that he was witnessing a carnival of knavery. 

Helen and her child came down for the big race, 
and Helen’s moods changed from hour to hour, till 
Geoffrey found that all the interest of his life was 
divided between what a certain jockey meant to do 
and' what Helen meant to do. This was a state of 
mind to which she loved to bring her friends. Geof- 
frey, in the torments of a first love, believing one day 
that he was merely friends with her as he had been 
all his life, and the next realizing the truth about 
himself, spent three days of complete torture, so that 
at last St. Ives began to notice that something was 
wrong. This was the last straw to Geoffrey’s load 
of torment; whether St. Ives thought that something 
was wrong with that money and began to question him 
about it, or whether he suspected the truth, Geoffrey 
felt that his questions would be equally intolerable. A 
vague, brief doubt did indeed come into the marquis’s 
mind when he heard that Geoffrey had bought a 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


137 


house three doors from the Merivales. “ You’re 
determined to look after her pretty closely,” he said 
with an odd laugh which Geoffrey did not like. “ It’s 
awfully good-natured of you, and I’m sure she wants 
looking after;. but — — ” 

“ On my word, Merivale isn’t safe. He’s perfectly 
capable of taking up the poker.” 

“ He’s an infernal young cad, but — won’t people 
talk?” 

“ Everybody has looked upon me as a nurse to 
Helen and Maura for so long that they won’t change 
now.” 

“ My dear chap, where a man and woman are 
concerned, each of them devises an extraordinary 
number of characters in which they agree to appear 
to the world, but the world will only accept them in 
one character. I half wish you had mentioned the 
matter to me earlier.” 

I am afraid the house is practically bought and 
paid for.” 

“ Oh, well, well — ” St. Ives’s incurable inability 
to intrude himself decisively into any man’s private 
affairs brought the conversation to an end. 

Nevertheless, it left Geoffrey in a very undecided 
state about what he should do next, and sitting next 
to him at lunch that morning, Helen found him in 
the most aggressively brotherly mood. She was 
angry, and talked to him and looked at him, for the 
rest of the afternoon, with the lover’s words and 
glances which frightened and thrilled Stewart usually 
into a new fever of passion. But to-day he escaped 
early from the race-course, pretending that he was in 
doubt whether he would go back to London by the 
race special. He made his way, however, to Ross’s 
house. 


138 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


The chaplain of the new church was walking up 
and down his garden-path, with Angela, as usual, 
walking by his side. That grave, world-weary little 
lady loved long silences broken by an occasional epi- 
gram, and as Ross never spoke Tmless he had some- 
thing to say, in which case he made a point of saying 
it well, the pair desired nothing better than to wander 
round a spring garden, stopping occasionally to pull 
up a weed or observe the friendly and rather similar 
motions of the snails. Stewart was an intrusion, and 
would probably tell them the news about the victory 
of some race-horse, the trial or despair of some owner, 
or some other piece of news equally uninteresting to 
them and the flowers and the snails; but both the 
parson and the little maid had a certain amount of 
passive liking for this young man. Angela preferred 
him to the numerous other specimens of his kind who 
tried to flirt with her, and told her jokes which she 
could not understand, in order that every one might 
laugh at her puzzled face and questions ; and because 
Angela liked him, the parson liked him too. 

“ You’re quite right to stay here, chicken, instead 
of coming up to the race-course,” said Stewart, putting 
a hand on the child’s shoulder ; “ you do love this 
garden better than any place on earth, don’t you ? ” 

“ It smells so lovely here, and there’s always a 
nice, buzzy sound, and you can’t hear anybody talking.” 
Angela sniffed once or twice, and sighed contentedly, 
and lapsed again into silence. 

“ I have to congratulate you, I believe, on coming 
into a big fortune,” said Ross, with the smallest pos- 
sible amount of congratulation in his face or voice. 

I hope you mean to use it well. There is so much 
to be done, so much distress to relieve, so many pains 
to cure, that there are times when I almost want some 


A FOOL’S YEAR 1 39 

money myself. But I am satisfied if some one else 
will spend it as it ought to be spent.” 

Geoffrey looked at the speaker with a little surprise 
and a little amusement and a little displeasure. Ross 
was looked upon as rather a good joke by the St. 
Ives family and their friends; the last stories about 
his gaucheries and inappropriate remarks, and the 
offence which they gave, were the first new jests which 
one was told on arrival at Newmarket.. What nobody 
was told was the further fact that Ross repeated his 
condemnation or anger, in season and out of season, 
till the wrong-doer occasionally began to feel uncom- 
fortable, and to ponder over the vigorous words which 
he heard so often. He was a power in the town, and 
yet he was blamed, laughed at, and never liked. He 
was an enemy of all classes of men in Newmarket, 
and yet all classes listened to him. It was impossible 
to avoid feeling a certain sullen respect for this man 
who was absolutely fearless, and totally indifferent to 
what any mortal man in the town, from a steward of 
the Jockey Club down to the last stable-prentice, 
thought of him ; yet the respect was never put into 
words, and found its sole outlet in sulky compliance 
with the parson’s advice. Geoffrey Stewart, for 
instance, was first angry at being advised to spend 
his money properly, and afterward a little struck by 
the new idea of trying to do some good with it. Up 
to this moment every one had been advising him 
about the purchase of houses and horses, and the 
composition of dinner menus at Prince’s ; but the fame 
of his fortune was not yet sufficiently abroad for even 
the secretaries of charitable institutions to advise him 
to do good with it. It was characteristic of Ross 
that he could not give such perfectly wholesome and 
commonplace advice without giving offence too. 


140 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Either words or manner were certain to annoy the 
recipient, and usually both combined to make him 
extremely angry. 

‘‘ Oh, ril give you a hundred pounds to distribute 
about the place, if you like,” said Stewart with a bored 
expression ; not because he was really bothered, but 
because he thought this to be the right manner in 
which to receive charitable appeals. “ When any one 
else in Newmarket comes and asks me for money, I 
shall say that you are in charge of all my charities, 
and they must come to you.” 

Ross began a long account of all the poverty in 
Newmarket, a narrative which really gave Geoffrey 
some excuse for the weary sigh with which he occa- 
sionally interrupted it. He had been told, and fully 
believed, that Ross spent three-quarters of his three 
hundred a year in attempts to relieve this poverty, but 
he really could not get up much interest in the subject. 
Years of strictly business attention to St. Ives’s letters 
had familiarized him with all these stories, and as 
he had been able to do nothing himself to help any 
such cases, he had become personally indifferent to 
them, and regarded an answer to each appeal as a 
small, irritating item in his long day’s work. Ross’s 
conversation now produced the same effect on him 
as when a footman, in other days, had brought in a 
large, new batch of letters to be opened and answered. 

Stewart went away after a short visit, and at the 
end of the afternoon’s racing Helen appeared, nom- 
inally to fetch her child, in reality because she thought 
that Stewart was there, and that she had done rather 
too much, in the course of the last week, to annoy 
him, and not nearly enough to please him. Her anx- 
ious look round the garden, as she came in, told Ross 
the reason of her visit, and he frowned in displeasure. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I4I 

From a few sentences spoken by Angela he had learned 
about the new house in Park Street, and did not 
approve of it. The lady began an immediate recital 
of her grievances. 

“ It is too kind of you to have Angela here so 
much. I think it is the only quiet time the child 
ever has in her life. Our poor home is becoming 
too dreadful. I suppose you saw in the papers about 
that last horrible business of Mr. Merivale’s in the 
police-courts ? ” 

“ I saw that some of his guests had been misbe- 
having themselves. Why did you invite them ? 

“ I invite them ! Why did I invite them ! ’’ Helen 
stared at him in indignation. “ I never even heard 
that any of them were coming until I saw the whole 
story in the police reports.” 

“ Surely this was the party which you were dis- 
cussing in my garden a fortnight ago? Angela told 
you that she had been sent away so that Mr. Merivale 
might give this party ; and I wondered at the time why, 
if you disapproved of it so much, you didn’t go back 
and stop it.” 

Helen shrugged her shoulders angrily. “ I daresay 
I did know something about it; yes, now you come 
to mention it, I did ; but why should I go back and 
stop it ? What do his disgusting entertainments 
matter to me ? ” 

“ I . thought they mattered a good deal, and that 
you disliked them extremely. If not, it is hardly worth 
the trouble of denouncing them ; if you do, it seems 
to me it would be very easy to stop them. It seems 
to me it would be a good thing to talk less about 
your husband’s debauchery and spend more time in 
trying to check it.” 

“ Really, Mr. Ross, I never heard any one make 


10 


142 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


such extraordinary remarks. I don’t like people talk- 
ing about my affairs in that fashion and volunteering 
such very odd advice. I sha’n’t be able to leave Angela 
here quite so freely if I have any fear of your speaking 
to her like this.” 

At the last sentence the man shrank back and lifted 
his hands as if to protest. Lady Helen had found 
the only punishment which she had it in her power 
to inflict, and the man feared it. It would give her 
no trouble and be a perpetual misery to him. But 
realizing that he was shrinking from it, he went on 
with his lecture in plainer language than before. 

“ Naturally, I should say nothing to her about you 
or her father. I am merely reminding you of how 
much you talk about Mr. Merivale’s wrong-doing, and 
how little you do yourself to check it. You ought 
to be with him a great deal more ; to find friends and 
amusements for him, to take the place of these objec- 
tionable women and rowdy dinners. You ought to 
be more in the house, so that they would not dare to 
come there. You ought to have your son with you 
much more, instead of leaving him always with the 
Duke of Dorset ; if the two children were constantly 
with you, and you were all three constantly at home, 
half this business would not take place.” 

You don’t understand, Mr. Ross. How can I stay 
in the house and keep the children there when any 
evening half the Empire ballet may be having supper 
downstairs? Why don’t you lecture Dudley about 
his behaviour instead of blaming me for it? What 
business of mine is it to get him away from this Delile 
woman? If he prefers to spend his time with a hide- 
ous forty-year-old woman out of a fried-fish shop in 
Whitechapel, because she can dance and swear better 
than I can, and drink more than he can himself, what 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


143 


does it matter to me? The days have gone by when 
anybody would dare to tell a woman that it was her 
first duty to reform a husband like that.” 

“ No, they haven’t ; or, at any rate, if they have, 
I belong to the other days. I tell you it is your 
first duty, and you are neglecting it. Why are you 
staying with your father instead of at home ? ” 

“ I am simply waiting until Mr. Stewart is able 
to come into his house close by, so that the children 
and I may feel moderately safe.” 

“ What gives Mr. Stewart any right to protect 
you ? ” 

“ He is simply the greatest friend I have in the 
world.” 

The last question and answer had been spoken in 
hurried, breathless fashion, man and woman both 
realizing that they were coming on to very dangerous 
ground. The fact of its danger merely caused Mr. 
Ross to abbreviate his next question as much as possi- 
ble, so that there might be no mistake at all about 
its meaning. 

Do you mean that he is in love with you, and 
you with him ? ” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice. 

Really, Mr. Ross, if you won’t understand that 
there are limits to what you may say to a woman 
without any invitation or encouragement from her, I 
must show you the fact as forcibly as I can. Come, 
Angela, we are going home. You must come and 
have tea with me instead of staying here for it; and 
I think you had better say good-bye to Mr. Ross now, 
as you may not be able to come and see him again 
before we go on Monday.” 

The child looked up in surprise. But I’m going 
to have dinner and tea with him to-morrow,” she 
objected. 


144 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ Oh, no, you’re not. Rosamund must come over 
to-morrow, and you must stay with her. Mr. Ross 
can’t be bothered with you any more this week.” 

The man looked down at the hopeless astonish- 
ment and reproach on the small face turned up to his ; 
he fought with himself for a moment and lost the 
battle. 

“ Perhaps I have said more than was quite justi- 
fiable,” he said in a hurried undertone. “ You must 
have so many sorrows of which I know nothing, that 
doubtless you do right to resent these extra ones as 
you do; and perhaps life in the middle of them is 
not tolerable without an occasional rest. Will you 
pardon my freedom of speech this time? I apologize 
for it.” 

“ You have said one or two things which are a 
little difficult to forgive, but doubtless it was in igno- 
rance, so I must try to forget it.” 

‘‘ And — and Angela may come to dinner to-morrow 
at one o’clock ? Shall I come and fetch her ? ” 

Lady Helen laughed ; her resentment had been only 
momentary, and the prompt effect of her threat about 
the child rather amused her. “ Oh, goodness, yes, if 
you like ! ” she said. “ Come in at eight in the morn- 
ing, if you like, and get her up and do her hair and 
take her to dinner and tea, and then bring her back 
and put her to bed. Nurse will be most grateful.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


The joy of life, which will not come to order, 
declined to visit Geoffrey, except for a very few 
moments at Ince Weston, during the first two or three 
weeks of his new fortune. The sensation of pleasure 
is difficult of catch ; and a man may carry out, with 
great precision, some piece of work which is supposed 
to produce it, and then stand justly aggrieved at the 
end of his task, realizing that the result has not ar- 
rived. He may buy a book at which all the world is 
reported to be laughing, and never a smile may come 
to his face while he reads it; he may win the Derby 
and Ascot Cup, and find himself wondering why the 
rest of the world should cheer a horse for galloping 
fast across grass ; he may kiss the most beautiful per- 
son in London, and wonder what the fun of it is ; 
and next morning he may stroll across St. James’s 
Park with the breath of a June morning breeze in 
his face and the sun shining on rain-washed trees 
and tulip-beds, and feel that his life is too full of 
pleasure for any adequate expression of it to be pos- 
sible. 

Stewart experienced some such violent revulsion 
of feeling when he came back to London from New- 
market. All anxiety about discovery had now gone ; 
the rebuilding of Ince Weston had fairly begun; the 
amusement of arranging his new house in London 
was in full swing. Finally, for a few days, he was 

145 


146 A FOOL’S YEAR 

freed from Helen’s presence, which, though he did 
not understand his exact feeling, frightened and tor- 
mented him now more than it pleased him. She had 
been annoyed on coming back to Bury Hill House 
on Friday afternoon to find him resolved on departure, 
and had said a very chilly good-bye, expecting him 
either to stay at the last moment or to express deep 
anxiety for her return to London. He did neither of 
these things ; he was in love with her at one moment, 
afraid of her at another, and the next was thinking 
of her once more as the helpless and very dear friend 
of the past fifteen years. For the two days following 
his return to London he hardly thought of her at all. 
Every one now knew of his change of fortune, and, 
popular as he had always been with a crowd of friends, 
the friends and the popularity were now multiplied 
by a hundred. The congratulations of his little circle 
were so hearty, the pleasure in his luck was so sincere, 
that the reality of it forced Geoffrey to be glad too. 
His world came to lunch and dinner and supper with 
him, sure of his welcome and quite certain of their 
own satisfaction ; they laughed and made plans for 
him and for themselves, and he agreed cheerfully ; 
they were delighted and so was he. None of the 
unpleasing element in such a change of life had yet 
appeared ; no one flattered him ; no one tried to borrow 
money from him, sold him broken-down horses, 
advised him to buy rotten shares and doubtful pic- 
tures, or invited him to a little game in which there 
should be no deception.” The fate of the newly made 
millionaire had been painted apparently much too 
black. 

He went on Sunday afternoon to the Savoy Hotel 
and asked to see Miss Vansittart, who was at home 
with her two charges. The girls were delighted to 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


147 


see him again, having found their first few days in 
London extremely dull. The young relation was busy 
all day and half the night, and could take them no- 
where; the friends to whom he had introduced them 
annoyed and rather disgusted the fastidious American 
girls, whose years at home, after their father’s depart- 
ure, had been passed in a social circle whose very 
existence was unknown to Cyrus Hopper, and was 
never at all likely to become known to him. In truth, 
at home the three women were hardly more anxious 
to proclaim their relationship to Mr. Hopper than 
he was anxious to acknowledge them in London. 
“ Taking in ” their new acquaintances very easily, and 
pronouncing them no good,” the three went about 
London sight-seeing quietly by themselves ; and 
though fully endowed, with the wonderful American 
capacity for going through this dreary task, and even 
finding some interest in it, they admitted that they 
were ready for some more amusing occupation and 
some more agreeable friends. 

Stewart hesitated and looked at Miss Vansittart 
in some embarrassment. In the first place, he did not 
quite know how far the two girls were able to defy 
their father without fear of awkward consequences, 
financial and other; in the second place, he did not 
know how far he was able to do the same thing 
himself. Perhaps, until he was more sure of his 
ground, it would be safer to confine himself to a 
little dinner-party at the Carlton and a visit to some 
theatre afterward. As he was about to propose this 
mild dissipation, an opportunity presented itself for 
testing the safety of some livelier suggestion, for a 
voice was heard outside muttering rough curses on a 
waiter who had gone to a wrong room, and then Mr. 
Hopper was shown in. His eyes flashed anger and 


148 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


suspicion at Geoffrey, and then turned scowling on 
Miss Vansittart, demanding an explanation of Stewart’s 
presence. She looked at the young man in silent, 
frightened appeal to him to explain his own presence, 
and Frances sat with a finger on her lower lip, like 
a child awaiting a scolding. 

“How do you do. Uncle Cyrus?” Patricia held 
out her hand with a polite smile. “ It’s good of you 
to spare half an hour to come and see how your nieces 
are getting on. To tell you the truth, we haven’t 
been getting on at all well ; we’ve been dull and bored, 
and most dreadfully in want of a father or friend or 
somebody to come and see after our being amused. 
I don’t mean that we’ve ever had any intention of 
going away ; if you stay long enough in a place some 
one is sure to turn up and entertain you ; but we did 
want a little help. However, we don’t expect distant 
relations like you to do anything for us. It would 
be too much to ask.” 

Hopper eyed the girl throughout this address with 
a sullen stare of anger. He had met with chaff in his 
life and had been obliged to laugh and reply as 
politely as possible ; but his subordinates and protegees 
and toadies knew that it was as much as their places 
were worth to joke with him, and the poor man did 
not yet understand that he might not now include 
his daughters in any of these categories. “ I told you 
from the first,” he said surlily, “ that I could not dance 
attendance on you here all day, and would not take 
you out. Why can’t you go back to America as I 
tell you? Of course you’re having a bad time over 
here, and nobody you know is the least likely to turn 
up. What do you want to stay here for? — Do you 
really mean” — he turned to Miss Vansittart, being 
aware that his only hope of release from this family 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


149 


invasion lay in her — “ that in spite of my orders you 
mean deliberately to stay here for another week ? ” 

“ My dear Uncle Cyrus ! ” Patricia leaned slightly 
forward, forcing her father to withdraw his eyes from 
the scared, irresolute face of the unfortunate chaperon 
to her own perfectly resolute one. ‘‘You quite mis- 
understand our plans. We have settled down here 
for the summer; only yesterday we told the manager 
that we liked these rooms very much — don’t you 
admire the view of the river yourself? — and would 
take them on till July. And the food here is just too 
lovely. Come and dine with us to-night and try their 
beef-steak. They put layers of fois gras between the 
slices, and pour port-wine sauce over it. Likely you’ll 
find Mr. Stewart here too.” 

“ Shall I ? ” Hopper turned round and glared at 
Geoffrey, who had been listening in amusement to 
the conversation. He thought Hopper and his daugh- 
ter such an unequal pair that once or twice he had 
been about to interfere in Mr. Hopper’s defence. At 
the challenge of the last question, however, he went 
over to the enemy, and answered explicitly that he 
meant to accept the invitation to dinner to-night, and 
meant further to devise some amusement for the two 
girls during the present week. 

“ It strikes me,” said Hopper in his most unpleasant 
voice, “ that if I am going to be defied and insulted 
by everybody from whom I have a right to expect 
some consideration, I must take my own measures.” 

“If by taking your own measures you mean 
being nasty to us,” said Patricia very sweetly, “ I am 
afraid. Uncle Cyrus, I shall have to be nasty in return. 
You see, I couldn’t be nasty to my father, because 
that would be breaking commandments and being 
dreadfully wicked; but no one would mind being 


150 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


nasty to their uncle if there was any need for it. I 
do hope you won’t quarrel with us or with Mr. Stewart. 
We do like him, and of course we like ourselves.” 

“ In fact, we’re all very great friends,” said Geoffrey, 
with an amused laugh at this determined young woman, 
who had got her father in a cleft stick and meant to 
keep him there. 

‘‘ Are you? ” growled Hopper. “ Well, I’d as lief 
fight four people as one. To kill two birds with one 
stone is a regulation English practice, and to kill four 
is better still.” 

So we shall all die together,” said Patricia, with 
a smile at Geoffrey, which made her words sound more 
than a repartee to Hopper’s threat. 

“ When I give a knock-down blow to any one, 
it ” Mr. Hopper began a violently abusive sen- 

tence and then stopped suddenly. An idea had oc- 
curred to him, and it pleased him so much that, as it 
gradually enlarged in his mind, a smile of corre- 
sponding size spread over his face and his tone changed 
completely. 

We keep rebellious daughters in America, too,” 
he said to Geoffrey in a perfectly amiable voice ; and, 
my word, they make things hum with us, very much 
as they do over here! I suppose there’s no more to 
be said. When one of our girls or one of yours says 
she’s going to do a thing, she does it ; and if any one 
objects she does it twice, and throws in an extra bit 
of devilry just to show you what she thinks of your 
objection. Seems to me I’d better take it lying down, 
and come and dine here to-night, and do anything 
else that Patty wants. Let me off having to eat that 
beef-steak, my dear, and just tell me your hour. I’ll 
call at Cornwall House for Mr. Stewart, and come 
along at any time you want me.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I5I 

‘‘We shall be delighted if he’ll come too,” said 
Miss Hopper, not at all deceived by her father’s amia- 
bility, but merely wondering what its cause might be. 
She disapproved of him warmly, and had never been 
less comfortable than under his new effort to make 
himself pleasant. 

A carefully worded and almost exciting conversa- 
tion followed for a few minutes, Geoffrey diffidently 
advancing various proposals for amusement. Miss Van- 
sittart and Frances gently deprecating them, Patricia 
accepting with enthusiasm, and Mr. Hopper encourag- 
ing everybody with an amiable smile. Finally, Geof- 
frey murmured something about requiring an appetite 
for the beef-steak, and got up to go. This girl, he 
said to himself as he walked along the Embankment, 
was certainly a very interesting young person, and her 
dealings with her father were a first-class joke. He 
meant to amuse himself at dinner to-night, to propose 
opera-parties, Hurlingham teas. Welcome Club din- 
ners, and a run over to Paris for the Grand Prix. 
Also he would obtain for the two girls invitations to 
various dances, and any other amusements to which 
he could give them the entree. They should come to 
Epsom, and come down to Ince Weston for the day, 
and be introduced to the St. Ives family. 

And be introduced to Helen too? The thought 
dragged its way uneasily across his mind, and he 
stopped under Cleopatra’s Needle, looking up at it with 
rapt attention, so that one or two passers-by pointed 
him out to companions as an American, a provincial 
sight-seer ; and a gentleman who lived by the “ confi- 
dence trick ” congratulated himself on the inspiration 
which had caused him to come down on to the Em- 
bankment that afternoon. If Helen knew this girl she 
would — do something nasty, he did not know what. 


152 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


and did not care to consider why, but there would be 
unpleasantness. He turned away from Cleopatra’s 
Needle with an abrupt exclamation of annoyance, so 
that two passers-by concluded that he was disappointed 
with the sights of London, and the “ confidence-trick ” 
gentleman came forward and offered to show him 
something better out of mere friendly good-nature to 
a fellow-sightseer. But Mr. Stewart drove home and 
brooded over the difference between a lover and a 
lifelong friend, and got nothing out of his meditation 
except the conviction that he was no good in either 
capacity. 

Cyrus Hopper, emerging from the Savoy Hotel, 
came to the conclusion that fate had led him on to 
slippery ground, and that his next footsteps must be 
at once cautious and resolute. 

With a very clear idea in his mind of what one 
of those footsteps was going to be, he drove to Corn- 
wall House and asked to see Lady St. Ives. 

The marchioness was at home, and was sitting in 
the large picture-gallery administering afternoon tea to 
a concourse of rather scared young men not quite of 
her own world, but extremely desirous to appear so to 
herself and one another. For more than an hour she 
had been trying to please them by talking about great 
personages of the social world, telling them little bits 
of harmless scandal, and listening politely to the Morn- 
ing Post gossip which they retailed to her in return. 
To each newcomer she presented herself in her most 
effective pose, sitting in languid silence at one end 
of a sofa while the youth stammered out faint com- 
pliments and incoherent jokes, and then slowly bright- 
ening and responding as if his brilliant discourse had 
charmed her out of her bored languor. But the exer- 
cise had become a little fatiguing, and feeling that she 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


153 


had done her duty, she had no hesitation, when Mr. 
Hopper appeared, in waving all the boys away to have 
tea with Maura in the next room, and beckoning the 
American to her side. 

“ There is something very good in me,” she said, 
“ as you may see from the way these children love 
me ; but I have an uneasy feeling that something is 
wrong, because no men ever seem to come near me. 
The taste for me is contemporary with the taste for 
ices and music-halls and cynicism. I should be a 
furore at Eton, a succes de fou at Oxford. Sometimes, 
however, I dare to look a little higher. The adoration 
of childhood is artless and pretty and grateful; but, 
after an hour or two of it, I am very pleased when 
you come in to see me.” 

“ And Lady Maura, I suppose, is equally pleased 
when the school-boys join her?” 

‘‘ Is she? Just watch the poor children, and you 
will see them come in here, one by one, with the 
longest of faces and the sickliest of smiles, to tell me 
that they have ‘ promised to go and have tea with 
Mrs. Somebody or Lady Somebody else ’ and must fly 
at once. Maura would distinctly not be a success at 
Oxford except among the professors. If she finds a 
young man who really knows something about racing, 
she occasionally condescends to talk to him, but other- 
wise she sends them all flying.” 

It is kind of Lady Maura to console us for our 
middle age. When we look in the looking-glass and 
see the first bald patches coming on our heads and 
the first lines drawn across our foreheads; when we 
begin to wake up earlier in the morning and get our 
first pain after eating caviare, and realize for the first 
time that the caviare is not worth the pain, we need 
pity.” 


154 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I don’t think it occurs to Maura to pity you. 
She rather admires you all when you have reached 
that stage.” 

“ That would compensate me for everything.” 
Hopper was a little flustered at finding himself brought 
to the point with such speed. He had meant to lead 
delicately up to a question as to Lady St. Ives’s opinion 
of him as a possible suitor for her younger daughter ; 
and behold, the lady was answering his question before 
he had heard himself ask it. 

“ There is nothing in the world I want more than 
Lady Maura’s sympathy,” he went on stammeringly. 

I have admired her now for many months, and — 
and — tell me, Lady St. Ives, should I have any chance 
if I asked her to marry me? Would you agree? 
Would Lord St. Ives agree ? ” 

“ I haven’t yet spoken to Maura, but I am quite 
willing, and I believe I may say that my husband is 
the same. We should not like her to go and live in 
America ; but you propose to settle down in England, 
don’t you ? ” 

“ Certainly, if she would prefer it.” 

I think it would be a very suitable arrangement 
for her, and would make her quite happy. You have 
no ties out of England except business ones, so your 
interests and hers, and your friends and hers, would 
be the same. I shouldn’t have felt quite happy if 
you had been married before and had a family for. 
Maura to look after, as I don’t quite approve of a 
girl so young as Maura being put in charge even of 
English children, and I think I should have to put 
my entire veto on it in the case of American children, 
whose life she couldn’t quite understand, and who 
wouldn’t understand her. But you are fortunately a 
bachelor, I believe ? ” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


155 


‘‘ Yqs” Hopper lied freely and easily, being com- 
fortably aware that Lady St. Ives cared rather less for 
her daughter than for her last new hat, and had been 
stretching the truth to a painful extent when she pro- 
fessed to know that her husband would approve of 
the match. He knew very well that St. Ives might 
tolerate the idea, but would never approve of it, and 
that the person to decide the matter one way or the 
other would be the girl herself. He thought he was 
sure of her, and had merely wished to make sure that 
no violent opposition would be offered by Lady St. 
Ives. It would not have been a very serious matter 
to his mind; he would merely have searched for his 
check-book as usual, and calculated in what way and 
to what amount he could bribe the lady without 
offending her. 

This evening, he supposed, she would tell her hus- 
band about the matter and speak to her daughter, and 
to-morrow morning he must come back to Cornwall 
House and speak to Lord St. Ives and Maura. Per- 
haps there might be a wedding at the end of the present 
season. The man got up from his seat and went to 
the doorway leading into the next room. Maura was 
seated at the tea-table there, listening with an expres- 
sion of weary politeness to two young men who were 
talking to her. A big bunch of pink malmaisons lay 
on her knee, and her fingers, gleaming with turquoise 
and pearl rings, moved about among the flowers. 
More of the malmaisons were fastened into the lace 
of her white dress, with some greenery which stretched 
to the little pearl-and-turquoise necklet which was 
round her throat. She looked up and caught sight 
of him standing in the doorway, and a little sudden 
light of pleasure flashed into her eyes and a tinge of 
pink into her cheeks. He was at least a grown-up 


156 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


man who had done something in the world, and was 
doing more, whose actions mattered a good deal to 
a large portion of mankind, who was run after and 
flattered by nearly everybody, and who cared more 
about gratifying the smallest of her whims than for 
satisfying the most vehement desires of everybody else 
in Europe. If a little bit could have been taken away 
from him here and added to him there, by some one 
skilled in the disguising of cads and the manufacture 
of gentlemen, she would very nearly have been in love 
with him. He saw the look, and his own eyes rested 
on the girl’s pretty face and form with a covetous 
stare which she felt, even at that distance, and shrank 
under. His desire to marry into the St. Ives family 
was mostly pure snobbery, but in his own coarse way 
he had a certain amount of love for the particular 
member of the family who remained for him. 

Well, he had taken the plunge now, and as he 
walked away from Cornwall House he realized that 
the waters were deep and dangerous. Luck was not 
with him just now, and, as a general rule, he did 
not approve of men fighting against luck. He had 
seen too many of them try it and get badly beaten. 
In Wall Street and Monte Carlo and Society, when a 
series of unforeseeable, unpreventable accidents begin 
to arrive in quick succession, it is safer to sit in an 
arm-chair with a box of cigarettes and a novel of 
Anthony Hope’s till the arrivals cease. Who could 
have guessed that these absurd English racing folk 
would think so much of a twopenny bribe? Who 
could foresee that those abominable daughters of his 
would turn up in London just at this moment, and 
compel him to tell a dozen lies a day, with a ten-to-one 
chance of his being found out any hour? But he 
had bribed his way through worse difficulties than 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


157 


this, and his millions, he felt sure, would not fail 
him on this side of the grave. Indeed, there were 
Christian teachers who would have him believe that 
his check-book was not altogether powerless to regu- 
late matters beyond. 


II 


CHAPTER XIV 


It was with more vexation than surprise that 
Cyrus Hopper got a letter next morning from St. 
Ives expressing his disapproval of the proposed match, 
and begging him at least not to speak to Maura about 
it for the present, or without his consent. He wrote 
the required promise readily enough ; he would keep 
it or break it according to the convenience of the 
moment, but it was good policy to make it now. 
During dinner with his daughters on the previous 
evening, a certain great idea which had come into his 
mind had seemed more than ever practicable, and a 
few weeks’ delay in the matter of his own engagement 
might be quite profitably spent. 

He went down to Newmarket in the middle of the 
week to see the trial of his horse for the Derby, and 
made many inquiries about the chances of the other 
candidates in which he was interested. For the most 
part he was assured that the Duke of Dorset’s colt 
Chancellor was bound to beat Midnight again in the 
Derby as he had beaten him in the Two Thousand, 
but the trainer of Kansas thought quite differently. 
“ On paper,” he said, “ as you know very well, Mid- 
night’s a better horse than Chancellor; and, in fact, 
as you know very well too, Kansas can beat Midnight. 
The Two Thousand was a fluke, or partly that and 
partly something else which we needn’t talk about 
too loud. Now you say you want every horse in the 
158 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


159 


Derby to run as he damn well pleases, and every jockey 
to ride as hard as he damn well can. Well, in that 
case it’s no good looking at the Two Thousand run- 
ning to tell you what’s going to happen. My private 
opinion is that if the race is going to be run on the 
square, Kansas will win it and Midnight be second ; 
but if he does win, questions will be asked, and I’ll 
get into a row ; and I tell you straight, Mr. Hopper, 
that row’ll go down in my bill for a very big figure. 
In this infernal place one can’t wink at a jockey 
without some of their lords and meddling dukes com- 
ing round to know what one means by it. I wouldn’t 
give a cent to keep race-horses here. I don’t say that 
everybody’s as clean and innocent as they’d have you 
believe; but five times, out of six even I have to run 
my horses straight. What with their stupid English 
jockeys and their ’nation-cute stewards, a smart man’s 
got no chance. Newmarket’s no place for you and 
me. Now, the question is. Do you want Kansas to 
win on Wednesday, or do you not? If you don’t he’ll 
have to hit his leg to-morrow, and if you do I expect 
he’ll manage it.” 

“ I don’t want Chancellor to win, anyhow.” 

“ No, that’s not the question. Is Kansas to win 
if he can ? ” 

“ Well, let him win and be d — d. But I do wish 
you could let Midnight do the trick. I want par- 
ticularly to keep on good terms with the marquis just 
now; and however much these English chaps talk 
about wanting to see the best horse win, they’re awfully 
mad when it turns out that the best horse belongs to 
somebody else. You don’t think he’ll win?” 

“ No, I don’t; not if Kansas is trying. But, as I 
tell you, he can hit his leg to-morrow morning if 
you like.” 


i6o 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


No, he must start, and I must do the best I can 
for myself by telling everybody to back him/^ 

Hopper went back to London in the evening, and 
sat in the hall of Claridge’s, after dinner, inviting 
companionship. News of the successful trial of 
Kansas had appeared in all the evening papers, and 
a small, crowd was soon collected round the American’s 
settee, asking for further details. He gave them 
freely, expressing his opinion to all comers that the 
horse was a good thing for the Derby. He had been 
very backward three weeks ago, and the hard ground 
of the Rowley Mile, iron-bound under an early spring 
frost, had not suited him at all. It would be all differ- 
ent at Epsom next week. The going would be 
perfect, the horse brisked up by his two races, and 
trained to the hour. Any one who took a hundred to 
eight about him now would be congratulating them- 
selves on the morning of the race, and congratulating 
themselves even more warmly after it. 

The listeners stood round him with eager eyes and 
parted lips, drinking in this promise of wealth, asking 
the same questions again and again, as if they could 
not hear too often all the thrilling details of this trial. 
Hopper surveyed the keen faces with amused scorn; 
supposing, after the fashion of his kind, that all these 
people wanted to win a big bet. If you had talked 
to him for a week you could not have made him 
understand that half his audience merely wanted to 
boast to some companions that they had some exclu- 
sive information for the Derby, and wanted to see a 
famous race, and say “ I told you so ” afterward. If, 
in the course of such an afternoon’s amusement, they 
also picked up a hundred pounds, they would be 
delighted. 

Hopper gave a great dinner-party on Friday night, 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


l6l 


with the definite object of further spreading the news 
about his horse. He was nervous about the questions 
which would certainly be asked when Kansas won a 
big race, and he wanted everybody to benefit by it as 
much as possible, so that the questions might be at 
least asked with a laugh and a desire to make the 
best of the answer. There was a battle at Cornwall 
House over the invitation, to which St. Ives wished 
to telegraph a refusal, and which his wife was resolved 
to accept for the whole party. “ How the deuce can 
you take Maura to dine with a man who has asked 
leave to propose to her and had the leave refused ? ” 
asked the former irritably. “ It’s deliberately encour- 
aging him to ask again.” 

“ Next time he asks,” said my lady coldly, “ I hope 
you won’t be so stupid as to refuse. Do you think 
I’m going to have the girl on my hands for another 
ten years? What on earth do you want her to wait 
for? She likes this person, and for a man of that sort 
he’s the most respectable creature I ever met. Very 
often he talks and looks quite like a gentleman.” 

Certainly in that respect he’s an improvement 
on the man to whom you married poor Helen ; but, 
having brought a good deal of money into the family 
by that coup, won’t you try for a little decency this 
time? ” 

I shall try for Mr. Hopper and get him.” 

That isn’t quite the same thing,” murmured the 
marquis, and shrugged his shoulders and went away, 
asking himself why had he interfered? The only 
result of his action would be that his wife would 
invite Hopper to declare himself at once instead of 
waiting till the next time she saw him. The dinner- 
party would be his last moment of peace ; afterward 
Hopper would be at Cornwall House every day and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


162 

all day, demanding an immediate wedding, proposing 
settlements in millions, for which he would have to 
express gratitude, and filling the whole house with 
the rattle and gleam of gold till it would give him 
jaundice to live there. St. Ives began to think that 
the only test of a gentleman was whether he could 
live for a year without anybody knowing his income 
or whether he had such a possession at all. 

Mr. Hopper’s dinner was a thing to be remembered 
rather than to be eaten. “ The things ought to be 
put in a museum of curiosities,” said St. Ives, looking 
round him wearily, ‘‘ not on a decent English dinner- 
table. I’ve had some turtle-soup and a bit of tongue 
smothered in jam, and now I’m hungry. Would there 
be a row if I sent for some bread and cheese ? Straw- 
berries as big as peaches, and peaches as big as young 
footballs, may be very remarkable to look at, but I’m 
not going to eat them. That waiter looks kind; I’m 
going to ask him to bring me a piece of Stilton hidden 
between two biscuits. Don’t give me away. Lady 
Merton. I’ll do you a good turn whenever I find 
you starving at a banquet of this kind. But you 
know better than to come to one without eating a 
couple* of rnuffins and half a pound of plum-cake first.” 

The merits of Kansas were insisted upon by the 
host throughout dinner; each time with a word of 
apology to Lady St. Ives for being obliged to beat 
Midnight. Geoffrey Stewart, seated some way down 
the table, but not quite out of hearing of his host’s 
words, glanced stealthily round once or twice to 
study the faces of the listeners. One or two of them 
were beginning to wonder why so much was being 
made of an ordinary Derby tip.” Helen, seated on 
one side of him, muttered : Oh, bother this race ! ” 
and the lady on his other side asked once : “ Why 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


163 


does he say so much about his horse winning? Is 
it going to be beaten or scratched; or what else is 
the matter ? ” Presently Hopper’s voice was raised yet 
louder to explain that a certain dark-brown substance 
which was being handed round was a new kind of 
fruit lately arrived from Brazil, and that he must beg 
everybody to try it and give their opinion. St. Ives 
muttered angrily to his neighbour : “ I knew it ! This 
kind of thing always happens at one of these dinners, 
and it’s the last straw. First, I’m starved, and then 
I’m invited to eat a new substance and see whether 
I die of it. I won’t eat any new fruit from Brazil. 
I won’t eat any fruit at all. I want Stilton cheese.” 

Seated opposite to her father, Helen saw that he 
was murmuring wrathful remarks about something, 
and asked Geoffrey on which side he was going to 
vote in the matter of the proposed marriage. “ You 
see how awfully angry my father is about it,” she 
said, nodding across the table towards St. Ives’s puck- 
ered brows and muttered wrath. “ He and mother 
are a good match for one another, and Maura doesn’t 
care a rap, so the question will be settled by the number 
and strength of the partisans on each side. Which 
side shall you take ? ” 

“ I don’t understand the issue,” said Geoffrey in 
startled amazement. “ Who has proposed to Maura ? 
If she doesn’t care about him, why doesn’t she say so ? ” 
Our friend Cyrus has proposed to her ; or, at 
any rate, has been talking to mother about it. Maura 
told me this afternoon. And when I say that she 
doesn’t care about him, I only mean about him per- 
sonally. There are a good many appendages to friend 
Cyrus about which one naturally cares a good deal. 
At any rate, no sensible person would answer a pro- 
posal of his without thinking a good deal about it.” 


164 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ The idea is preposterous, impossible,” said Geof- 
frey angrily. 

‘‘ Oh, nonsense ! The man isn’t so very old. He’s 
got neither wife nor child. He’s a gentleman, as the 
Daily Mail counts gentlemen. He means to settle in 
England and behave like an Englishman, as far as 
he knows how. What would you have ? ” 

“ Do you mean,” asked Stewart, taking an enor- 
mous peach and cutting it open in various parts, as if 
he were determined to study its manufacture through 
and through ; ‘‘ do you mean that Maura seriously 
contemplates marrying this person ? ” 

“ Why not ? Doesn’t he offer her a ‘ fresh young 
heart ’ and two million a year ? ” 

Do I understand that Maura would hesitate if 
there was any doubt about the freshness, the youth, 
the heart, or the millions ? ” 

“ Well, she wouldn’t have a widower or a seventy- 
year-old, and I daresay she’d hesitate if the money was 
divided by twenty; but need we argue about such 
possibilities? Surely we know the facts about our 
Cyrus pretty well by this time.” 

Geoffrey had reached the stone of his peach by 
now, and was apparently bent on breaking it with 
the inadequate weapon of a slender silver dessert- 
knife. “What’s the exact state of affairs just now?” 
he asked. “ You have told me once, but my brain is 
a little confused.” 

“ Mother is on Hopper’s side ; father is on the side 
of — well, of letting things alone. I need hardly tell 
you that. Maura told me this afternoon that when 
the man asked her she would say Yes.” 

The dessert-knife snapped in half at the juncture 
of the blade and handle. 

“ Cyrus will have to pay for that,” said Helen with 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


165 

a laugh. ''Why do you tackle a peach-stone with a 
flimsy silver knife ? 

Because Tm a fool/^ said the young man, looking 
straight at her. “ Knives like this aren’t made to 
deal with stones. If they try, they get smashed — 
horribly smashed. Would you mind telling Maura 
that?” 

" Do you think,” asked Helen, rising from her 
seat in obedience to a signal from Lady Merton, " that 
I should be exactly the right person to preach to 
Maura about marrying for love ? ” 

“ IBs hard luck on a girl like that,” said Geoffrey, 
" to have no one near her who is ' exactly the right 
person ’ to preach to her about any form of decency.” 

As Helen swept out of the room with the other 
ladies, Stewart could see a flush of anger on her cheeks, 
and he sat down again at the table, wondering ruefully 
what good he had done by that last rather rude remark. 
Was it possible that the girl’s parents and sister would 
really allow such a match ? If so, what could he do, 
bound hand and foot by the gigantic bribe which he, 
received? There was nothing, it was true, in his 
agreement about keeping silence on any other matter 
except Hopper’s turf-frauds; but the American was 
not likely to make an over-nice calculation as to 
what was and was not included in the agreement for 
which he had paid so heavily. What he wanted he 
would take; if he was met with refusal he would lose 
his temper; and if he lost his temper a good many 
reputations would be lost with it. Stewart argued the 
matter to himself in dull, half-hearted fashion ; but as 
he argued, he knew perfectly well that he had no 
real intention of speaking out and introducing Miss 
Patricia and Miss Frances Hopper to Lord St. Ives’s 
notice. The decision caused him discomfort, but only 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


l66 

for a few moments. He had travelled along a con- 
siderable portion of a certain broad, downhill road 
during the past three weeks. 

Lord St. Ives went home that night in a condition 
of mind and temper which, if he were not a great 
statesman, would have to be described as snappish. 
He had seen his wife and his eldest daughter treating 
the American as an accepted suitor for Maura ; he had 
seen Maura herself treating the man as a recognised 
lover; he had seen and heard a score of nods and 
whispers from the rest of the company, intimating 
that they saw what was going on. He himself dis- 
approved of the whole business more warmly than 
ever, but could not at this moment imagine where 
he was to find an ally to back him in refusing his 
consent to it. As Napoleon’s enemies mostly went 
into battle knowing that they were beaten before the 
first shot was fired, and got beaten accordingly, so 
Mr. Hopper had a way of convincing his enemies that, 
however just and proper it might be to offer him 
battle, it was rash and impolitic and, above all things, 
perfectly futile to do so. So many of the contests of 
life are fought inside recognised boundary-lines and 
under the strictest rules, that you get fatally well 
accustomed to the lines and the rules, and are “ all 
abroad ” with an antagonist who is pretty well a match 
for you inside them, but, in point of fact, cares nothing 
for them. Mr. Hopper would hit you above the belt 
or below the belt, jump the ropes and attack you 
suddenly from behind, disregard the verdicts of umpires 
and the orders of referees, punch, shoot, or stab you, 
just according to which way advantage lay; and, all 
other means failing him, would pay the umpire, referee, 
backers, and spectators to give the verdict in his 
favour. Your life would be quieter with such a man 


A FOOL’S YEAR 167 

if you told him to help himself to whatever he wanted 
and go away as soon as he could. 

Kansas won the Derby amid the disapproving 
shouts of an angry and astonished crowd; and Lord 
St. Ives, sitting in his box after the race, while his 
family and visitors had gone to the paddock to inspect 
a candidate for the last race in which they were inter- 
ested, was wishing heartily that he had not promised 
to dine that night with the victorious owner. Mr. 
Hopper in affliction was unknown to him ; Mr. Hopper 
calmly self-satisfied he knew and disliked; before the 
picture of Mr. Hopper triumphant he simply sat and 
shuddered. To the marquis, as he sat miserably 
anticipating to-night’s noisy riot, there entered Mr. 
Dudley Merivale, with a malicious grin on his face 
and much unpleasing gossip on his tongue. 

“ I say, this is a job for the stewards, isn’t it? Will 
there be a row, or shall you be able to shut every- 
body’s mouth ? ” 

“ What the devil should there be a row about, 
and if any one wants to make one, why should I 
stop them ? ” 

“ Oh, I thought for a great friend, a future son-in- 
law, and all that kind of thing, you’d stop the scandal 
if you could ! ” 

See here, Merivale, you know something about 
racing, and you don’t want to go about making an 
almighty fool of yourself. What’s the good of saying 
things of that kind because a half-trained horse loses 
a race over a mile, and a month afterward, when he is 
properly trained, wins over a mile and a half? ” 

Oh, my only Aunt Maria ! Have they no better 
story than that to tell? Why, Angela would laugh 
at that!” 


i68 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


St. Ives looked at the youth very uneasily. He was 
an authority on turf matters, and was accepted as 
such all over the racing world. Not only would his 
words be listened to in London clubs and drawing- 
rooms, but St. Ives himself was inclined to attach 
weight to them. Taken in conjunction with the gossip 
which had been floating about Newmarket a fortnight 
ago, they worried him dreadfully. He studied Meri- 
vale with troubled glances. “ Do you mean seriously 
to tell me,” he asked, “ that Kansas could have won 
the Two Thousand? If he could, why shouldn’t he 
have done it ? ” 

“ He was stopped in the Two Thousand to let you 
win; everybody knows that,” said the youth lightly; 
“ but it’s bally cheek of them to bring him out and 
let him win the Derby in a walk like this. There are 
some pretty remarks being made about you and Maura 
in the County Stand, I can tell you ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 


As they met outside the stands after the racing, St. 
Ives dropped his hand lightly on Geoffrey’s shoulder. 
“Will you walk with me to the station?” he asked; 
“ it is hardly possible to get ten minutes’ talk with 
you nowadays from week’s end to week’s end, and I 
have something serious to say.” 

The two men disentangled themselves slowly from 
the tents, and intimated to the gipsy children that a 
proffered shilling was a bribe to go away, and not 
an incentive to further somersaults. 

“ Would you mind telling me in half a dozen 
words,” said St. Ives, “ your candid opinion of 
Hopper? ” 

“ He means well,” said Geoffrey, flushing. 

“ Does he ? On your honour, do you think so ?. 
You will not accuse me of violent feeling, of bigotry 
or intolerance. I don’t insist upon a man adopting 
my religion, agreeing with my politics, taking my 
medicines, conforming to my standard of morals, and 
wearing the same hats, ties, conventions, and waist- 
coats as myself. I shall never be a great politician 
because I never genuinely desire to burn a man who 
disagrees with me. But somewhere in the muddled 
chaos of my mind I keep a barrier — a twistable, benda- 
ble, flabby sort of notion that if a man breaks all 
the Ten Commandments, and all the laws of this free 
and happy country besides, and all the rules and 

169 


170 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


by-laws of the Jockey Club, the Carlton Club, the 
North Western Railway, the Stock Exchange, and 
London society, he really mustn’t come and dine with 
me. This nebular hypothesis, this barrier which 
bends so freely, but doesn’t break, is in a state of 
peculiar activity just now. I am saying to myself, 
Ought Hopper and I to dine together ? ” 

“ I don’t understand his principles,” said Geoffrey, 
“but I believe they are there. You see, he knows 
none of the laws which you have just run off, with 
the possible exception of the Ten Commandments, and 
I daresay he doesn’t think much of those. He wants 
plenty of everything, and a moral code with only ten 
rules in it would not impress him much. I daresay 
he has his own ideas of right and wrong, and keeps 
to them sometimes and ignores them sometimes, very 
much as we do with ours.” 

“You think that?” Lord St. Ives walked on in 
silence for a moment, cutting off dandelion-heads with 
his umbrella, and Stewart hoped that the examination 
was over. But his companion began again, taking 
more dangerous ground. “ I don’t like this Derby, 
Geoffrey ; I don’t like the Two Thousand ; I don’t 
like the racing Hopper. And neither do you, really. 
Young Merivale is a cad, but he isn’t a fool, and he 
knows more about racing than you and me put 
together. He says Hopper isn’t running straight. He 
told me so this afternoon, and added in his sweetly 
amiable way that half the people in the County Stand 
were making nasty remarks about me, and this man, 
and — and Maura.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“Yes, it’s like that. Our world has got hold of 
a little bit of scandal, and they mean to have a good 
time with it. Am I to be firm? Am I to put my 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


17I 


foot down? Am I to do all the regulation things 
which fathers do when there is something more than 
doubtful about the young man? Am I, in fact, to 
abolish Hopper? Look here, old boy, I am very 
serious ; I never tell you that except when I mean 
it, do I ? And now I tell you that I am quite serious. 
This man is a friend of yours, but I am an older 
friend, and I don’t believe that you would do me a 
mischief in order to keep in with him. Tell me, is 
he honest, or is he not? ” 

The growing anxiety which had been showing 
itself in St. Ives’s voice and face filled Geoffrey with 
misery and fear. He saw what was coming; vaguely 
and uneasily he had foreseen it since the night of 
Hopper’s dinner-party ; he was certain that before any- 
thing was finally settled about Maura’s engagement, 
St. Ives would appeal to him. He had refused to 
consider what he should say, merely hoping that he 
would be able to put off his questioner with platitudes, 
or that the questions would take some form which 
would make them easy to answer. Now a direct 
question had been put to him, involving the vital 
interests of these old friends, and the question had 
been backed up by an appeal which ought to have 
been unnecessary. Every consideration of honour, 
friendship, personal affection, commanded him to tell 
the whole truth about Cyrus Hopper. And to tell 
the truth was an absolute impossibility. 

An impossibility? What on earth did he mean 
by saying that to himself? It was quite possible to 
tell the truth. His tongue was free, his companion 
ready to listen and never too ready to condemn; no 
one else would hear. St. Ives would be shocked 
and grieved, but he would lend money to repay to 
Hopper all of his million which had been actually 


172 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


Spent; the rest could be given back; Geoffrey would 
re-enter St. Ives’s service, and Hopper would receive 
his deserts. Stewart turned very white and looked 
furtively at his companion, planning in his mind the 
opening words of some such confession, as a man 
plans some insulting speech which he half wishes to 
deliver, but wholly and really intends not to deliver. 
St. Ives glanced round and met and held the young 
man’s unwilling eyes. “Well?” he asked with an 
accent of very keen pain in his voice ; “ has Hopper 
quite superseded me? Must I take second place 
now ? ” 

“ Don’t let him marry Maura,” blurted out Geof- 
frey recklessly, scarcely knowing what he was saying. 
“ I — I can’t tell you anything. There are reasons — 
I can’t tell you anything more. Do forgive me if 
you can. I hate myself for keeping silence, and it is 
horrible to me to know what you must be thinking 
of me, but I can’t speak. I don’t like Hopper, and 
you are quite right not to like him. Of course don’t 
let him marry anybody you care about; and — and. 
Lord St. Ives, don’t despise me too much for asking 
this ; but, if you are going to drop him, please do it 
slowly, and I implore you not to let him know that 
I have had anything to do with it. In fact I haven’t. 
For some time past you’ve been getting annoyed 
with him, and if you break with him it will have noth- 
ing to do with me, will it ? ” 

St. Ives walked down the remainder of the hill to 
the station in perfect silence. At the entrance to the 
station he stopped for a moment and turned to Geof- 
frey with a brief : “ I shall not tell the man that you 
have spoken to me about him.” Then he got into 
the train without further speech, and journeyed back 
to London in silent torture. He was as fond of this 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


173 


lad as of his own children, and it hurt him terribly 
to find that this second-rate Yankee financier should 
hold such a place in the boy’s heart that he would 
flout St. Ives himself rather than risk harming his 
new friend. Hopper had some hold on Geoffrey, 
apparently, but how could it be anything which a 
friend’s kindly, careful aid could not remove? If he 
was in a scrape of any ordinary description, what 
could have possessed him to go to such an adviser? 
If Hopper had found out some peccadillo, what on 
earth would that matter? Who would believe a word 
that the American said about anybody? If a woman 
was in the case, how could she possibly have tolerated 
Hopper’s interference ? If Geoffrey had been borrow- 
ing money from the American before his fortune came 
to him, surely he must hiave repaid it by now? For- 
tune, when it had come, had brought such ample 
measure, such unexpectedly ample measure — For 
one brief second a flash of painful light flashed across 
St. Ives’s mind. Was it conceivably possible — ? He 
shut his mental eyes and smiled in impatient anger. 
Hopper was infecting the whole world with his dis- 
honesty and suspicions of dishonesty. 

Another prolonged battle took place at Cornwall 
House with regard to an invitation — already received 
and accepted — to stay with Hopper at a house which 
he had taken for the Ascot week. St. Ives insisted 
that some excuse should be found, the flimsier the 
better, for refusing to join the party ; his wife refused 
to write the letter, and stated that in any case she 
was going, and Maura with her. The total helpless- 
ness of a man in a battle with his wife and daughter, 
where both feminine combatants are united and de- 
termined, had never been realized before by the 
unfortunate marquis, who clearly perceived now that 


12 


74 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


if he wrote a polite excuse for his non-attendance and 
his wife and daughter both went to the house, no 
one would pay any attention to the snub which he 
had administered, and the two ladies would have 
unlimited opportunity for completing the mischief 
which they had begun. Fortunately for the male 
temper, it is only very rarely, perhaps only two or 
three times in his life, that the average man realizes 
his own complete unimportance in the social world. 
He may issue commands that some one on the family 
visiting-list shall be invited or ejected, flattered or 
ignored, and he may follow up his orders by the most 
emphatic snubs or the most overpowering politeness ; 
but nobody concerned in his proceedings, their victim 
least of all, cares a rap about them. The smile or 
frown of your hostess matters immensely; but if she 
smiles, the host could hardly counteract the effect of 
her welcome to any serious extent by hitting you in 
the eye. Lord St. Ives, considering the social question 
now, understood this, and raged inwardly, and tore 
up the stiff, brief letter which he had written to Mr. 
Hopper declining the visit to Ascot. 

He went to Wokingham House, and suffered 
bitterly. His name and his wife’s name had been used 
freely, as he very soon found out, to attract other 
guests, and the overcrowded house was full of his 
relations and friends. His wife, after the manner of 
her kind, managed immediately to take command of 
the house, ordaining who should sit next to whom, 
what games should be played at night, which friend- 
ship should be encouraged and which suppressed, and 
what extra invitations to meals should be issued. This 
behaviour, so necessary, of course, for her own com- 
fort, had the unfortunate effect of trebling the whispers 
about her daughter, and on Cup Day half their 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


175 


acquaintances in the inclosure understood that Lady 
Maura Vernon was engaged to Mr. Hopper. My 
lady marchioness smiled enigmatically, and shook her 
head in gentle contradiction ; her husband swore freely 
and contradicted the statement neither gently nor enig- 
matically; nevertheless, the opinion of the inclosure 
was summed up by an old habitue in the words : “ The 
St. Iveses get everything they want, but they do want 
some very nasty things.” 

A merciful accident happened to Mr. Hopper 
during the Ascot week. Kansas was brought out to 
run in the St. James’s Palace Stakes; the owner 
expressed every confidence; the horse was backed 
for cart-loads of money, and he finished absolutely 
last. “ An uncertain-tempered brute,” said one critic. 
“ Doesn’t like hard ground,” said another; “ No good 
over less than a mile and a half,” said a third; but 
the result seemed to exonerate the trainer and owner 
of Kansas from all blame for his in-and-out running 
during the spring. In point of fact, Kansas, like many 
another animal which is not allowed to run straight 
during his early months, had developed a temper, and 
would not win or lose now exactly when his pro- 
prietor pleased. Ignorant, however, of the cause, St. 
Ives and his friends blamed themselves for their rude 
comments at Epsom, and even Dudley Merivale 
allowed that he might have been mistaken. Mr. 
Hopper was overwhelmed with polite condolences on 
his misfortune. 

” Your horses aren’t much good. Uncle Cyrus,” 
said a girl’s voice in the paddock, shortly after the 
disaster ; and Mr. Hopper turned round, in alarm and 
indignation, to find his daughters standing close by 
him. He was with St. Ives at the moment, walking 
by the side of the defeated favourite, and eyeing him 


176 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


with the contempt which defeat always produced in 
Mr. Hopper’s mind. St. Ives turned sharply round at 
the words “ Uncle Cyrus ” and studied the speaker 
closely and with interest. “ A niece of yours, 
Hopper?” he asked. “Please introduce me”; and 
the American sulkily complied, his glances playing 
over Miss Vansittart and the two girls like stabbing 
knives. He was cursing himself for his folly in not 
having mentioned these relations before, and so allow- 
ing people to think that he had reason to be ashamed 
of them. It was absurd of him because, as he saw, 
the girls could talk easily and cleverly on any ordinary 
subject, and St. Ives was already charmed. They 
spoke once or twice of Geoffrey Stewart, referring 
to him as an old friend, and were a little puzzled by 
a sudden flash of intelligence which passed over St. 
Ives’s face. Was it possible, the marquis was saying 
to himself, that he had been suffering all this anxiety 
and suspicion and vexation for nothing, and that there 
was no more serious cause for Geoffrey’s tragic speech 
on Epsom Downs than this pretty girl ? Geoffrey had 
begged him not to break with Hopper, not to tell 
Hopper that Geoffrey had been expressing dislike of 
him ? Of course ! Hopper had a pretty niece and the 
lad was falling in love with her. Good Lord, what a 
fool he had been to make such a tragedy out of such 
a commonplace affair, to let his suspicions run a mad 
riot among every sort of folly and crime, and never 
to guess at this simple solution of the mystery ! A 
glow of gratitude which brought tears to the man’s 
eyes came over him as he reflected on his own blunders. 
He wanted to apologize to every one on the spot. 
Within one hour Hopper had been exculpated from 
the charge of dishonest racing, and Geoffrey Stewart 
from an even worse suspicion. The marquis consid- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


177 


ered that he had received one more proof of the folly 
of troubling one’s self about one’s neighbour’s affairs, 
and one more recommendation from fate to continue 
in his own habitual course of letting things alone. 

The two girls, however, had interested him, and 
he asked many questions. Why hadn’t he and his wife 
been told about them earlier? Were they staying long 
in England? What could be done to amuse them? 
Hopper answered with savage brevity that he didn’t 
want to bother anybody with relations of his; that 
so far as he knew they were only in England for a 
very short time, and that he couldn’t think of troubling 
Lady St. Ives to do anything for them. He felt that 
he was behaving idiotically in answering like this, but 
he was too angry to disguise his feelings. When St. 
Ives pressed for their address, and insisted that his 
wife should come and see them, the unfortunate Ameri- 
can almost cursed him openly, and spent a miserable 
evening listening to comments on and questions about 
the two girls, and- wondering whether anybody sus- 
pected the truth. He was begged to invite them to stay 
to dinner on Friday night, and promised to keep them 
if they had no other engagement ; but he said to him- 
self that they certainly should have another. Unfor- 
tunately, St. Ives was with him when he met them 
next day on the lawn, and St. Ives gave the invitation, 
which was promptly accepted. 

Hopper was really frightened; his Ascot week, 
which he had enjoyed thoroughly, and which had 
been a great social success for him, promised to end 
with an overwhelming disaster. He had a large dinner- 
party at his house for Friday night, many guests 
having promised to come from the surrounding houses, 
and it was impossible that he could keep his eye on 
Miss Vansittart and her charges or regulate their con- 


178 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


versation. Once or twice he was on the point of 
ordering them to go back to London; but such a 
proceeding, he reflected, must make St. Ives suspi- 
cious, even if he was not suspicious already. His 
fatherly wish that the two girls had been drowned 
while crossing the Atlantic was re-echoed with tenfold 
fervour. He could think of no better device than 
to put Geoffrey between his two daughters, begging 
him to neglect his other partner and talk to both of 
them at once; while Miss Vansittart was put next to 
a French attache, with brief directions that if she spoke 
a word even to him, except about the weather. Hopper 
would half-kill her. 

The Merivales came to dinner from a small cottage 
close by, where they were staying with some friends ; 
and Helen sat opposite to Stewart, with two very dull 
companions on each side of her, and plenty of leisure 
to observe Geoffrey’s proceedings. These were of a 
most lively description. He was attempting most faith- 
fully to carry out his host’s wishes, and exerted himself 
to amuse the two young ladies with so much success 
that their laughter and delight, and the gaiety of their 
entertainer, made them the most conspicuous persons 
at the table. Helen stared across the bank of mal- 
maisons, at first in uneasy wonder, and then in deep 
anger. Geoffrey had been avoiding her lately, had 
spoken to her only on casual, dull topics (and by dull 
topics Helen meant in general anything except her- 
self), and had not paid her a single compliment on 
one of her Ascot dresses. Considering the cause of 
this, she had concluded that he was really offended by 
the snubs which she had administered at Newmarket, 
and was preparing a grand reconciliation. Apparently 
this was not the cause of his changed behaviour. These 
two girls were not chance dinner companions encoun- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


179 


tered here for the first time ; she could hear fragments 
of their talk, which referred to dinners at the Savoy 
and a theatre visited together. Here was a matter 
requiring investigation. 

Directly dinner was over, Lady Helen sailed up to 
Patricia and said to her : “ May I come and sit down 
by you and talk to you till the men join us? I see 
you are a friend of my very great friend Geoffrey 
Stewart, so we may use him as an introduction. Have 
you known him long? ” 

Patricia looked her new companion up and down 
and through — especially through. Women, as a rule, 
disbelieved instinctively every word which Lady Helen 
spoke, and Patricia was not an exception to the rule. 

“You have known Mr. Stewart for some time?’' 
asked the elder woman carelessly. 

Patricia nodded. “ And you ? ” 

“ For more years than I should like to confess,” 
was the answer, with a condescending smile. “ We 
are very old friends. Is that your sister sitting by 
my mother ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know your mother, but that is my 
sister Frances in white. Uncle Cyrus hasn’t intro- 
duced us to any one here.” 

“ Is Mr. Hopper your uncle?” 

“ I just called him Uncle Cyrus, didn’t I ? ” asked 
the girl, who did not mean to tell any direct lie on 
this point. 

Helen stared in not unnatural surprise. “ I’m sorry 
to force you to waste words so recklessly. Will you 
and your sister come and see me in Park Street one 
afternoon next week ? ” 

“ Mr. Stewart has promised to take us to Paris 
soon ; we will come with pleasure if he doesn’t choose 
next week.” 


i8o 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Helen sat straight up on the sofa, and her eyes 
shone oddly. There was a curious vibration in her 
clear, penetrating voice as she asked : “ To Paris ? Mr. 
Stewart is taking you to Paris next week ? ’’ With 
her eyes on Patricia’s face she saw the girl flush a 
sudden, pretty pink, and looking round she found that 
Geoffrey was coming up to them. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Stewart came forward to the sofa eyeing its two 
occupants suspiciously. The atmosphere felt electric. 

“We are all going out into the garden/’ he said, 

“ and I am sent to ask if you will come and join us. 
Rayner and Eastlake have lost all their money, and 
most of us are a little fractious for various reasons, 
so it is not considered safe for us to sit together, even 
to smoke. But you look as if you had settled down 
here for a long talk.” 

“ Talk is good, but air is better,” said Miss Hopper, 
getting up from the sofa in her usual decisive fashion. 
When her own mind was made up, she considered that 
it saved time to announce her decision while the 
other people were making up theirs. Having an- 
nounced it on this occasion, she looked down at Lady 
Helen Merivale, waiting for her to speak or move. 

Helen did neither ; she sat very still, with her eyes 
on Patricia’s face and one hand clinched tightly on 
a fan. Then, without speech, she rose abruptly from 
her seat and crossed the room to where her mother 
was sitting. 

Lady Helen was a more than ordinarily silly 
person ; she rarely knew what she wanted, or why she 
wanted it, and having gained some object, was as 
foolishly helpless in dealing with it as a child with 
an unwound mechanical toy. But she had this in ^ 
common with younger toy-owners, that however 

i8i 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


182 

common the toy might seem in itself, however com- 
plicated might be its machinery, however impossible 
to set in motion and dull if by chance it was set in 
motion, the toy became priceless and coveted beyond 
all other things in the world when somebody else 
wanted it. Then it must be seized and held at all 
costs ; then the key must be found, the machinery must 
be set in motion to the best of one’s ability, and jeal- 
ously watched and guarded from all other eyes ; then 
all persons attempting to annex the toy, or even to 
come near it, must have their ears boxed and their 
hair pulled. And the more vigorous their attempts 
to gain a sight of the jumping frog or wriggling 
snake, the more precious would the snake or frog 
become. This elementary bit of human nature, shared 
by a one-year-old possessor of a new rattle, a ducal 
discoverer of a new celebrity, and a royal claimant to 
a Garter, was in active life just now in this woman, 
who had tried for a new lover and won him, and 
been bored with him next day, and now saw a new 
claimant bidding for the reversion of his affections. 

She would have been annoyed by witnessing such 
a proceeding with regard to any of her followers ; 
she liked to know that they were always at her orders ; 
she liked to have them with her, to listen to their 
talk, if by chance she was not thinking about a more 
interesting subject, such as herself, to laugh at their 
jokes, if haply she understood them. But in the case 
of Geoffrey Stewart there was something which mat- 
tered more. He held a place in her life which was 
very different in degree, and even in kind, from that 
held by the others. She cared for him more than 
for several new dresses ; she would have put down a 
newspaper narrative of her own costume and proceed- 
ings at a ball in order to speak to him, if, perchance, 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


183 

he could not wait till she had finished. She would 
take trouble to see him after a long absence; his 
presence in a house or at a party made a perceptible 
difference in her desire to go there. And she was 
as glad to see him in a room as to see her own 
reflection in a looking-glass. She could not spare 
him and did not mean to; the proceedings of this 
young American person must be checked at once; 
they meant danger, and the girl herself was evidently 
not a tame young person ready to run away at a 
glance of displeasure. It was a measure of Lady 
Helen’s feeling for Stewart that instead of lightly 
ordering him to abandon Patricia Hopper and attend 
to herself, she was trying now to be cautious, and to 
calculate what course of action would be the most 
safe and sure. 

Geoffrey and Patricia went out into the garden, a 
few other ladies going after them, and Helen sat 
down to think. Her reflections presently led her to 
speak to Miss Vansittart and to ask a string of ques- 
tions about her two charges. The answers trebled her 
uneasiness, for it was now evident that Geoffrey was 
a frequent and familiar visitor at the Savoy Hotel, 
and that nothing was at all likely to occur to separate 
him from his new friends before the end of the season. 
Putting caution aside, she got up, and, accompanied 
by Miss Vansittart, followed the others into the garden. 

A moment of relief came to her here, for Geoffrey 
and Patricia were not by themselves, but in the middle, 
of a group of people who were talking about nothing 
more dangerous than the day’s racing. She joined the 
group, and, reminding Geoffrey that he had been 
making bets for her, asked him how much she had 
won. He answered that he did not know, and there 
was a shade of impatience in his voice. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


184 

“ But, my dear friend, how on earth do you suppose 
I can go to bed to-night without knowing whether 
Fve got to pay you five pounds to-morrow or you have 
got to pay me a hundred ? Do tell me which it is.” 

“ I can go and get my book and calculate it out 
for you, if you like,” said the young man grudgingly ; 
and as she answered that she could wait no longer, 
she saw an angry scowl on his face. It frightened her 
and made her resolve on an immediate explanation. 
The group broke up when Geoffrey left it, and when 
he came back with the little red betting-book in his 
hand, she was alone on the veranda. A murmur of 
talk came from the few people who were left in the 
drawing-room ; a voice or two came from various parts 
of the garden ; some one was singing out of doors to 
a violin accompaniment, in a house across the heath, 
and the music was carried very softly through the 
summer night air to this chafed, fretful listener, whose 
shallow soul was full of all that she could understand 
of love, and who was beginning at the same time to 
realize dimly the meaning of loss. Her hands were 
clasped in front of her, and she looked at Stewart 
with unlistening, uncomprehending face when he came 
to her and began to add up the figures and tell her 
results. In the middle of one of his calculations she 
put a hand on his arm and asked him : 

Ought I to understand now why you haven’t come 
near me for a week ? ” 

“ I’ve seen you every day,” he answered impa- 
tiently ; “ surely this book is proof that you have been 
having a good deal to do with me for the last four 
days at any rate ; and it seems to me that you ought 
to be rather pleased at the result.” 

The woman waved his words aside with an impa- 
tient hand. ‘‘ I thought you rather disliked that kind 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


185 


of thing ; mostly you look ready for murder if you are 
left alone for half an hour with a pretty girl of 
nineteen, and I thought you loved sight-seeing very 
much as you love a table d’hdte dinner in a railway 
hotel. This nineteen-year-old lady, I suppose, is 
different from all others, and sight-seeing in Paris is 
a different thing when she comes too ? ” 

“ The only sight-seeing in which we have indulged 
yet is the Derby and Ascot, and I have always had 
a weakness for those sights myself. As for girls of 
nineteen, I know objectionable persons of all ages 
from three months to a hundred years, and I know 
nice ones of the same ages.” 

“ Certainly your tastes are changing. A short time 
ago you did not like anybody of the age of three 

months — or of nineteen years. Now ” 

“ On the contrary, Angela was very nice when she 
was three months old.” 

And now an exception has arisen to the nineteen- 
year-olds ? ” 

Geoffrey laughed in embarrassed fashion, and made 
an attempt to go on with his calculation. Helen took 
the betting-book out of his hand. 

It was only a pretence,” she said, and not a 
very clever one. I just wanted to talk to you. I 
think you might tell me a little about this new friend. 
It wasn’t so very long ago that I held her place.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” Geoffrey moved out of the 
veranda and walked across the lawn in a direction 
where he thought he heard voices, Helen following 
him in silence. She was desperately anxious to make 
him speak either about Patricia or herself, but she 
dared not detain him by any more persuasion. Only 
a desperate hope was in her mind that the others had 
all paired and did not want to be found. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


1 86 

Apparently this was the case, for voices ceased and 
footsteps moved away as she and Geoffrey approached 
them. Apparently, too, Geoffrey made up his mind 
that an explanation was inevitable, for he stopped 
short and, leaning against a tree, looked at her as 
if inviting her to go on. She accepted the invita- 
tion. 

“ You told me a few weeks ago, I remember, that 
I ought to look out for some girl like this for you 
to marry ; and Tm afraid I answered that I wouldn’t, 
and that if you found one for yourself I would come 
and scratch her eyes out. Perhaps you’re afraid that 
I am going to keep that promise. Well, you needn’t 
be afraid. I shall merely invite her to dinner and 
ask her what she wants for a wedding present.” 

“ On the whole,” said Geoffrey, “ I’d rather you 
scratched her. It would surprise her a good deal less, 
and be considerably less awkward for me. Girls are 
usually engaged to be married before they get wed- 
ding presents, and they would not be commonly con- 
sidered engaged to a man because he has seen them 
a dozen times and given them half a dozen tips — and 
jolly bad tips too — for Ascot races.” 

“ Is it no more than that yet? If this is the pre- 
liminary canter, I wonder what the race will be like? 
Will you tell me when it is over, please? When you 
have time to give a thought or two to me again, you 
will remember that we’ve been very good friends for 
some years past, and you might tell me first.” 

“We have been and are and shall be the best of 
friends,” answered Stewart, in the guileless belief that 
Helen might be, after all, merely asking him to remain 
friends with her. “ But don’t get up too much interest 
in Miss Hopper. You will be rather disappointed, 
and accuse me of gulling you when she finds a more 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


87 


interesting acquaintance than myself, and transfers all 
her attentions to him ; and finally goes back to America 
and forgets the whole pack of us” 

“ I think I shall be rather glad/' 

Stewart looked at her with lowered eyelids, and 
wondered what she would do if he tried to move 
away. For a moment he felt that she was holding 
him bound to this tree-trunk, an object of public ridi- 
cule to any eyes which might be moving about the 
adjacent paths. For the first time in his life a sensation 
of thorough dislike for her flashed across his mind. 
She read every thought with a quickness which was 
rather a relief to him than otherwise, and moved a 
step or two away from the tree. 

“ I am worrying you, I see," she said at last in a 
very low voice and looking away. “ It is a new thing 
for me to do; you will admit that, won’t you? But 
it is a little difficult to accommodate one’s self to a 
new life in such a hurry. And it will, indeed, be a 
new life to me without you — a new, and — and not 
very happy life.’’ 

Geoffrey groaned almost audibly ; the poor fool had 
thought that the interview and explanation were over, 
and apparently they were only just about to begin. 
And there was a thrill in his companion’s voice as if 
she meant to play her part in this tragic scene for all 
it was worth. And the stage which she had chosen 
was almost in the middle of an open lawn, where the 
audience would have the best possible view. He 
attempted to laugh, and answered lightly: 

“ Even supposing that I was going to be married, 
which I am not, should I be obliged to drop all my 
friends and acquaintances and cultivate an entirely new 
set ? Is that etiquette ? Tell me. I am ignorant ; and, 
besides, as I tell you, I have never given a moment’s 


i88 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


thought to this marriage which you have apparently 
arranged for me” 

“ You are beginning to answer my questions,” said 
Helen with her eyes in his face. “ Will you really 
tell me, then, on your word of honour, that you have 
never thought of marrying this Hopper girl, and that, 
so far as you know, she has never thought of marry- 
ing you? ” 

Geoffrey hesitated, stammering out an incoherent 
word or two, and Helen laughed, though she felt as 
if some one had put a knife into her and were pressing 
it firmly downward. Geoffrey’s recent words had 
done very little to dispel her suspicion, but they had 
done nothing to confirm it; his hesitation turned it 
into a horrible certainty, and for a moment she stood 
opposite to him in breathless silence, fighting an 
impulse to fall at his feet and implore him to give up 
this new love. Her mind was so hopelessly shallow 
that one drop of real feeling suddenly introduced 
among its vapoury emotions caused a prompt and 
terrifying overflow. Her life was a succession of 
storms in a tea-cup, and now a storm had come which 
the tea-cup could not hold. 

“You are quite right to give me up,” she said 
very slowly, searching carefully for every word which 
could recall old days, or move his pity, or harm her 
rival. “ You like to be amused, and I cannot amuse 
you now; you like some one who knows all your 
friends and can entertain them, and I am too tired 
to see anybody and too dull to entertain them ; your 
life is honest and clean and worth something to the 
world, and mine is not. This girl will suit you better 
than me. She looks quite honest and wholesome, 
and she will soon learn those little bits of English 
manners and little tricks of courtesy which are so easy 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


189 


to learn and matter so little compared to those other 
advantages which she has already. You and I would 
never be complete friends and companions because, 
to use a very old-fashioned word which still means 
something, you are good and I am not.” 

If every word of this speech was meant to be a 
stab, the speech was certainly a brilliant success. It was 
a success beyond its author’s wildest expectations, 
for if there was a well-considered pin-prick in nine 
words out of ten of it, there was an unmeditated 
dagger-thrust in the tenth. Watching the effect of 
her address as carefully as she weighed each part 
beforehand, Helen was amazed at Geoffrey’s face when 
she had finished. He had turned very white, and a 
look of combined anger and misery was in his eyes 
which she could not understand. Two or three times 
he tried to speak, but his lips were trembling violently, 
and each time the stammering words dropped away 
into silence. Helen was listening almost eagerly for 
his reply, perceiving how great an effect she had 
made, and wondering which part of her speech had 
produced this much-desired result. But the words, 
when they came coherently, puzzled and disappointed 
her. They were a repetition of that portion of her 
appeal to which she attached no importance whatever : 

'' I am not honest ; you — you know nothing when 
you use such words as ‘ honest ’ and ‘ good ’ about me.” 

Helen shook herself impatiently. “ I know you 
better than I ever have known or ever want to know 
anybody in the world ; and if you are not honest 
nobody is or ever will be. I daresay Miss Hopper 
is, too, and I know I am not ; so she is a better com- 
panion for you than I am. But ” — the woman 

dropped her voice to its softest whisper — she will 
never love you half as much, and I cannot help being 
13 


190 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


afraid that after some time you may become a little 
vexed with a person who does not know quite — quite 
everything about our life over here, about your life 
and your friends’ life. And oh, Geoffrey, it will break 
my heart to lose you ! ” 

“ Perhaps you and I are better matched compan- 
ions,” said the young man in a dull, expressionless 
voice, and then stood in complete silence, while Helen, 
a little puzzled, moved closer to him and put her hand 
in his. At that moment Patricia and Lord St. Ives 
passed across the corner of the lawn, the moonlight 
catching the girl’s white dress and proud young face 
as she walked erect and graceful by the marquis’s side. 
It was as if Nature had lent her aid to heighten the 
theatrical effect of the scene by bringing this white- 
robed young figure across the vision of the two guilty 
lovers cowering under the tree shadows. Geoffrey 
looked from the distant girl to the woman by his 
side, and clinched his hand in a spasm of rage. Helen 
watched him in bewilderment ; she had won some point 
in the battle, and could not make out what it was 
or how she had won it. 

“ Come, my dear.” Stewart moved away from the 
tree, laughing lightly. “ Let’s go and see if we can 
find a part of the garden where we shall be by our- 
selves, and we’ll stay there till propriety compels us 
to go and look for Hopper. Don’t let’s talk any 
more nonsense about Patricia. I wouldn’t marry her 
if she’d have me, and I have nothing except your word 
for it that she’d marry me if I asked her. Surely it’s 
the more popular idea that an American girl comes 
over here to buy a duke if she can afford one, and 
anything else down to a baronet if she can’t. What 
reason have we to suppose that Patricia is different 
from all the others? Your only interest in her, I 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


I9T 

expect, is to prevent her from marrying the Duke of 
Dorset and annexing a big jointure and half the family 
diamonds for her lifetime.” 

“ She may marry him for anything I care if she’ll 
leave you alone.” 

The two wandered into a small rose-garden and 
walked up and down there, Geoffrey trying his best 
to satisfy the demands of his companion. But she 
was exacting and he was indifferent. He walked by 
her side, agreeing mechanically with her wish that they 
might go away somewhere together and live as lovers 
for the rest of their lives ; he racked his brain for 
compliments wherewith to fill up the pauses, and tried 
to flog his love-making into some semblance of fervour 
whenever she paused, suspiciously noting his indiffer- 
ence. But no smallest atom of affection or care would 
come back; he could not force himself to remember 
any of their past, or to get up the slightest interest 
in Helen’s future. Every spark of lover’s feeling for 
her had died when he met Patricia, and even ordinary 
affection for her had been almost killed this evening. 
Yet she was quite right in one thing: she was a fitter 
companion for him than Patricia Hopper was. He 
could imagine how the girl would scorn and despise 
him if she found out what he had done, how furi- 
ous she would be at his having dared to speak to 
her as her lover with such a contemptible piece of 
meanness in his past. Once more he became certain 
that discovery of it was inevitable ; such certainty forces 
itself upon every man who has stained his life irre- 
trievably whenever the better part of his nature is 
called into play and he is confronted with some chance 
of lifting his life on to a higher plane. And he pic- 
tured to himself an interview in which he, as Patricia’s 
accepted lover, should be accused by her father of 


192 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


taking his bribes, and the girl should ask him to deny 
it, and he should stand silent and overwhelmed with 
shame. He was desperately in love with her, with 
every word and movement, every look and smile; he 
acknowledged this to himself now in the hot, heavily 
scented rose-garden with this passionate woman walk- 
ing by his side and openly offering herself to him. 
Patricia’s imagined scorn fell on him and made him 
writhe ; she would despise him for accepting her 
father’s money ; she would despise him even more for 
accepting Helen’s self-surrender; and, thinking now 
of her contempt, he despised himself more bitterly 
than he had ever done in his life. Perhaps if his fault 
had been dead and buried beyond the possibility of 
human discovery under any conceivable circumstances, 
he might have fought more successfully against this 
fear of her scorn ; the fault was in active operation, 
tainting and changing every moment of his life ; and, 
moreover, at any moment it might be repaired. 

He was so weary of his companion at the end of 
an hour of her company that, when Mr. Merivale came 
suddenly round a corner, his first sensation was a 
glow of relief, and his second and much less keen 
sensation was one of wonder as to how much Dudley 
Merivale had heard or seen of his wife during the 
past hour. On reflection, the latter thought became 
the more prominent of the two ; it would be a climax 
to the prolonged vexation of this evening if Dudley 
Merivale were going to have a row with him for 
making love to his wife. A man, under such circum- 
stances, is not permitted, by the etiquette of the 
situation, to say : The lady has been making love to 
me, and I am truly thankful that you have come to 
fetch her away.” Such scenes, however, were not in 
Dudley’s line ; he disliked Geoffrey extremely, but had 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


193 


a private opinion that one evening alone with Helen 
was adequate recompense for a good many misdeeds. 

“ Sorry to interrupt you/’ he said affably, “ but the 
fact is I hardly know where to go. You have all paired 
off except me and Hopper, and as we both hate one 
another like poison, we’re dodging about all over the 
garden to avoid one another. But the whole house 
and place is full of you love-making people, and I 
can’t keep out of everybody’s way. I stand behind a 
hedge and hear Hopper blunder into the middle of 
two turtle-doves ; he swears and apologizes and gets 
into, my hedge, so that I have to bolt for it, and, of 
course, I charge full-tilt into two more. You ought 
to have provided me with a young woman, Helen. 
How badly you do manage all these things ! ” 

“ It is a ridiculous convention, but my mother and 
people of that sort don’t like staying in a house with 
the ladies of the Folies-Bergeres, or even dining with 
them. I told you how bored you would be here.” 

“ You were quite right, my dear,” said Merivale 
with a yawn. “ Well, I’ll take myself off. It’s no 
good both of us being bored, is it? And did I tell 
you I was going down to Newmarket to-morrow to 
see ^Hailstorm tried on Monday morning? No, I 
daresay I didn’t. Like to come ? ” 

“ No, thank you ; neither can you take the children. 
Will you please understand, by the way, that they are 
not going with you alone anywhere again? I hear 
you have been writing promises to the Fanes to bring 
them down to Carlisle next week. Well, they are 
not going with you.” 

'' Good-night, my dear. Be kind to her, Geoffrey ; 
she is fractious and needs soothing.” And with a 
laugh Mr. Merivale slipped through the hedge and 
disappeared into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Dudley strolled away cursing softly and laughing 
softly to himself at alternate moments. He went to 
his cottage, changed his clothes, caught a midnight 
train up to London, and spent the night at Claridge’s. 
Early next morning he went round to Park Street, 
ordered the nurse to have the two children ready to 
start in an hour’s time-, and took them with him down 
to Newmarket. He had had no particular intention 
of doing so last night, and no particular desire to do 
so this morning, though, on the whole, his progeny 
rather amused him. The idea of having any at all, of 
perpetuating his own weak and undesirable likeness, 
of being responsible for the existence and upbringing 
of two creatures of this kind in a respectable stratum 
of society, tickled his fancy as a huge joke. Also, 
they made him laugh sometimes, and the fuss made 
by such personages as Lord St. Ives and the Duke of 
Dorset about such little, harmless things, with untidy 
clothes and holes in their stockings, and so very few 
summers over their heads, struck him as humorous. 
But chiefly, the children were interesting as a ready 
means of annoying his wife, who, though she cared 
nothing whatever in fact for either child, liked to pose 
before the world as a careful mother, obliged to guard 
her children day and night from the iniquities of their 
father. Whenever Lady Helen was at a loss for some 
tale wherewith to excite the pity of a male acquaint- 
194 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


195 


ance, she made up a spirited narrative of her torture 
at seeing her children forced to speak to some shameful 
friend of their father’s, or allowed by him to share 
in some of his evil amusements. Oddly enough, her 
own sex laughed at these stories, and said rudely that 
between Lady Helen’s friends and amusements and 
those of Mr. Merivale there was not, from a moral 
point of view, a very striking difference. The strange 
family party arrived at Newmarket in time for lunch 
and went to the Rutland Arms. Ross had been invited 
to lunch, and to take the two children back to his 
house for the afternoon. 

I am glad they have come,” said the chaplain 
after lunch, when he and Merivale were sitting out 
in the court- yard drinking coffee ; it will be one of 
their last afternoons with me here. I am leaving.” 

‘‘ Leaving ? Rows getting a bit too thick ? I say, 
I’m sorry to hear about that. Can’t I do anything 
to patch matters up? Is it a case of a dozen small 
shindies, or one imperial shindy of such magnitude 
that you’ve got to give way before it ? ” 

“ It’s both. The little rows are going on much 
as usual, and I’ve started two exceptionally big ones. 
Your friend Mr. Hopper is mixed up in one of them.” 

“ My ‘ friend ’ Hopper is mixed up in pretty nearly 
every piece of blackguardism that comes under my 
notice ; and in any shindy in which he’s taken a hand 
he’s sure to be wrong. What’s this about? I back 
you up without hearing you, but you may as well 
tell me the details, if there aren’t too many of them.” 

“ Last time he was down here, he was using some 
very foul language to Jerry Cater’s little brother, who is 
in Rawson’s stable, and the boy told him he wouldn’t 
be spoken to like that. Mr. Hopper insisted on having 
him dismissed, and as Rawson is a coward and wants 


196 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


some of Mr. Hopper’s horses, he dismissed the boy, 
who came and told me all about it. He’s a favourite 
of mine and one of the best little chaps in Newmarket, 
so I spoke very strongly to Rawson. When Rawson 
refused to take the boy back, I appealed to two of 
the stewards to interfere, and I told them what I 
thought of Rawson in some very plain language. The 
result of this is that Rawson, and also Hendon, with 
whom I had a row about another matter, have got 
up a large petition to the Committee of my Chaplaincy 
to beg for my dismissal. I was a little pained to find 
how very extensively the petition was signed, and 
the end of it is that I have resigned, and promised 
to leave immediately they find some one more to 
their taste. I am afraid they have already found some 
one, and I must keep my promise. I shall only be 
here for about a fortnight more.” 

Merivale listened to the end of this narrative and 
then put a hand on the chaplain’s shoulder. 

“ You’re a good sort,” he said, “ and the committee 
of your church are d — d fools. I’ll go and tell them 
so this afternoon. Now, look here, what are you 
going to do next? When that idiotic old uncle of 
mine dies I shall have about forty livings to give away, 
and the first parson who drops inside my property, 
you’ll go straight in and take his place. But until 
the duke dies I can’t do much. Can you hang on 
for a bit? I mean have you got plenty of spare 
cash ? ” 

“ I’ve been a little improvident, I fear ; but the 
amount of poverty in this town is something which 
no one believes until they see it. No man saves any- 
thing. A small part of their earnings they spend in 
drink, a still smaller part they spend on meat and lodg- 
ing, the rest goes in betting. When they win the bet 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


197 


they put their stake and all their winnings on another 
horse in another race ; when they lose they come and 
borrow a pound from me. If I can’t lend it to them 
they starve, and the worst of it is that their wives 
and children starve with them.” 

“ In other words, my dear chap, you’ve been giving 
all your pay to these d — d skunks, and have got nothing 
left. I’ll send you fifty this afternoon, and — oh, bother 
all thanks; you’d do the same for me if I was in the 
hole and you’d got the money. To-morrow I’ll send 
you another fifty if I can’t get this stupid decision 
reversed.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Mr. Merivale; I 
couldn’t possibly take either sum. Now, if you will 
allow me, I will carry off your children to my house. 
Am I to bring them back here or to Bury Hill House ? 
Are they staying with you here ? ” 

“ Yes, it’s an effective way of annoying my wife.” 

“ I have often wondered, Mr. Merivale,” said the 
parson severely, “ which is most to blame in the quar- 
rels which I hear of so frequently between you and 
Lady Helen. I have thought sometimes that you 
have a certain amount of irritation to suffer under; 
but if that is the spirit in which you live with her, 
the fault must certainly be chiefly on your side.” 

“ That’s not a very well-considered or well-argued 
judgment,” said Merivale, lausfhing, but not without 
some irritation in his voice. “ You know she irritates 
me, and I admit that I occasionally irritate her; how 
on earth, in that case, can the fault be chiefly on my 
side? I might very well say that in point of fact I 
was bringing the children away to prevent them from 
seeing the scandalous manner in which she is carrying 
on with Geoffrey Stewart. From one or two chance 
words of hers, which I heard at Ascot yesterday, I 


198 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


shouldn’t much wonder if she left for Paris with him 
this afternoon; and if I set up to be a moral and 
careful father, I should say that I brought the children 
here to prevent them from seeing the departure for 
Paris of their mother and her lover. As candour is 
a weakness of mine, I may tell you that I have really 
brought them here to prevent them from sharing the 
fun if she goes, and to annoy her if she stays.” 

Ross began a long and strongly worded sermon 
on the duties of wives and husbands, to which Dudley 
listened in some boredom, occasionally raising his 
eyebrows at some unusually emphatic expression in 
it. His sense of humour was considerably tickled by 
the spectacle of this parson, to whom he had just 
promised a living and a hundred pounds, standing in 
front of him and denouncing him in the strongest 
language to which he could lay tongue. He began 
to feel vaguely that in another moment or two he 
would be getting angry, and the attitude of Ross’s 
Newmarket enemies struck him as not altogether 
without reason. 

Two jockeys who had been riding at Ascot, and a 
trainer who had a grievance against one of them, came 
round to have a chat with Merivale in the course of 
the afternoon, and later on, when Lord St. Ives arrived, 
he found a violent and noisy quarrel going on in his 
son-in-law’s room. The marquis angrily dismissed the 
party, and explained to Merivale with some emphasis 
that he had been infringing the law by taking the 
two children away against their mother’s consent. 
Helen was in a state of dreadful alarm and anxiety, 
said St. Ives gravely, and he must insist on taking the 
two to Bury Hill for the night. Where were they? 
There was a quarrel between Dudley and his father- 
in-law, one of a score such quarrels which took place 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


199 


every month, and the elder man went away wondering 
for the hundredth time how a separation was to be 
averted. Then he looked back with his usual cynical 
amusement on the past eight or nine years of his 
daughter’s married life, and remembered a few of the 
other hundred times when he had thought that such 
a menage could not possibly last for another week : 
and a little of the sadness of failure, of a failure which 
is irredeemable, came over him as he thought. If his 
daughter and son-in-law reformed suddenly and com- 
pletely to-morrow, if he himself did his duty, took 
Dudley Merivale in hand, lectured him, gave him work, 
helped him to make his life some use to the world, 
who could give him back the dead waste of the past 
eight years ? Even so the marquis himself sometimes 
saw a new sun rise and new flowers flushed into bloom 
by a new spring, and made great resolutions that the 
glowing life within him should produce world-wide, 
life-lasting results; but the dead weight of waste lay 
very heavy on his soul, and damped and crushed out 
the glow which the new spring had brought. The 
rubbish-heap of duties left undone fascinated him to 
look at, and as it grew bigger his eyes could hardly 
get beyond it. 

Guessing easily enough where his grandchildren 
were to be found, he went down to Ross’s house 
towards six o’clock to bring them home. A man and 
a boy were in Ross’s study, and St. Ives recognising 
the latter, who was Jerry Cater’s small brother, asked 
him how he was getting on. The boy smiled grate- 
fully at this recognition from a man who was the 
most popular race-horse owner in Newmarket, and 
said that he had just had an offer to go to America. 

To America? ” St. Ives shook his head. Keep 
away from there. Tommy. They won’t teach you 


200 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


much good there, and even if you make a little more 
money, you’ll spend it twice as fast. What’s the 
matter with Rawson, eh ? ” 

‘‘ Please, my lord, he’s turned me out ; says I 
cheeked Mr. Hopper on the Limekilns last week.” 

“ I am beginning to think,” murmured St. Ives in 
a low voice to the chaplain, “ that hell is a place 
dominated and pervaded by Hopper. My ideas of it 
have varied slightly : Brussels, Monte Carlo, Ostend, 
and Margate have all had their turn of standing in my 
mind as a picture of it ; London after a January snow- 
storm, Paris at the height of Cook’s season, and Belfast 
with an Orange demonstration going on in the streets, 
have sometimes seemed to me a not inadequate fore- 
taste. But since I have known Hopper, these places 
and scenes have fallen into their proper and inferior 
place, and hell, as I say, is to my mind now simply 
a land where Hopper is. What’s he been doing 
here?” 

Ross repeated the story of young Cater’s dismissal, 
and St. Ives nodded comprehendingly. “ Hopper 
would do that,” he said, “ and Rawson would do that. 
And of course now the boy wants a new place. Who 
has suggested to him to go to America?” 

“ This man.” Ross waved his hand in introduction 
towards the man who was standing by Cater’s side. 
“ Mr. Freene his name is, and he has come over from 
New York to pick up some boys from our stables. 
He has good introductions, and I’m afraid Tommy 
must take any work he can get.” 

The stranger took two or three steps forward and 
looked St. Ives over with a good-natured laugh. 
“ You’re very down on us Americans, my lord ; likely 
we’ve taught you too much, and you don’t approve 
of being taught. The boy here will learn to be a 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


201 


bit more spry with us, and I don’t think he’ll learn 
much harm besides. Seems you know my old friend 
Cyrus K. Hopper ? ” 

“ Yes ; you know him too? ” 

“ Well, he’s a sort of relation of mine, I might say, 
but I haven’t seen him for a good many years; and 
though he’d remember me quite well, really, because 
he never forgets anybody or anything, he wouldn’t 
allow that he knew me. He married a cousin of mine ; 
but if you want to keep friends with him, you won’t 
take care to let him know that you know anything 
about that.” 

St. Ives kept his feeling out of his face to a very 
creditable extent; not so well, however, but that the 
stranger saw he was telling a piece of news which 
mattered considerably to his hearers. 

“ You must be thinking of another Cyrus Hopper,” 
said the marquis calmly ; “ this man is not married.” 

His wife is dead, certainly, my lord ; but equally 
certainly he married my cousin and has two daughters 
who are alive and living in Chicago with a guardian. 
I’ve got letters from them, talking about their father 
and saying how he’s in England, but they don’t know 
what he’s doing there. They ain’t overproud of me, 
but they don’t mind writing me a line now and then, 
and seeing me when I come to Chicago.” 

“ Then you know their names ? ” 

“ The eldest’s called Patricia and the younger one’s 
Frances; their guardian’s a Miss Vansittart; she’s a 
relation of Hopper’s family, not of mine, and she loves 
Hopper much as I love a hornet. But she’s almighty 
good to those girls, anyhow ; and in the old days when 
their father lived in Chicago, and there was bullying 
going on all day and night, she’d take all their share 
as well as her own, and always get the girls out of 


202 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


the house when a big row was due. She’s a good 
woman.” 

“ I really think — I have reason for feeling sure 
that you’re confusing some one else with the Mr. 
Cyrus Hopper who is in London now.. The girls, 
Patricia and Frances, are his nieces ; I happen to know 
that. Probably he had a brother, the father of these 
two girls, and you’re confusing him with his brother.” 

The man laughed, and stroked his beard, and looked 
round for something into which to spit. Finding 
nothing handy, he laughed again and said lightly: 
“ Guess Pve been telling tales about friend Cyrus. 
If I was out West the insurance offices would charge 
a bit extra for my life during the next month or two. 
When Cyrus hears of this he’ll come around and 
say things, and I’ll tell him what I think of him for 
calling himself a bachelor ; and you can bet our con- 
versation wouldn’t look nice in print. Out West 
there’d be a gun accident at the end of our talk. For 
he was handy with a shotgun in the old days, Gyrus 
was. But here he’ll have to take it out in cursing.” 

A broad smile was on St. Ives’s face by this time. 
He had long thought that if any one could be found 
who could and would “ tell things ” about Hopper, a 
good deal of quiet fun might be got of the situation. 
Here was the man, and he had told something, accord- 
ing to expectation, and the fun would certainly follow. 
Mr. Freene’s revelation suited St. Ives exactly ; there 
was nothing particularly evil in it, nothing dangerous 
or criminal which would necessitate serious steps being 
taken. He could simply convict the man of an idle, 
stupid lie, without serious offence but without point, 
which would cover him with confusion, and cause 
him a maximum of annoyance and no real harm. The 
marquis felt as pleased as a child with a popgun. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


203 


Taking an impressively cordial farewell of Mr. 
Freene, and not forgetting to take his address too, 
St. Ives walked home, smiling broadly to himself, and 
once even laughing aloud, so that Angela and the 
little boy, who were usually afraid of him, began to 
take a more cheerful view of their visit to Bury Hill 
House. Geoffrey Stewart was coming down this 
evening, and for a moment or two St. Ives reflected 
on the youngster’s amusement at the news. Then 
suddenly he remembered Patricia Hopper, and the 
thought of amusement died away. What would Geof- 
frey think when he found that the girl with whom 
he was desperately in love — for since the last day at 
Ascot not much doubt could be entertained about 
that — was this fellow’s daughter? It was true, of 
course, that the exact degree of relationship was not 
a serious business ; a connection with Hopper would be 
so appalling that its exact degree v/ould not, perhaps, 
matter much. Also he would probably give the girl 
a large dowry. And again Hopper’s anxiety here 
displayed to break loose from his family was a very 
agreeable state of affairs, and one which should by 
no means be discouraged. Nevertheless, it was a 
nuisance for Geoffrey, and the boy would be more 
vexed than amused by the story which St. Ives had to 
tell. Perhaps, however. Hopper would leave England, 
and the bare possibility of such an event made all 
life joyful again. 

A dreadful shock, however, awaited St. Ives ; when 
Geoffrey arrived at half-past nine. Hopper arrived 
with him. 

“ I will put up at the hotel if it bothers you to 
have me here,” said the American glibly, feeling com- 
fortably sure that, after staying with him for four 
days at Ascot, St. Ives would not be very likely to 


204 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


refuse two days’ visit from him at Newmarket; “but 
I was obliged to come down here to-day. I thought, 
for one thing, that while we were staying quietly down 
here we might talk over that matter about which I 
wrote to you three weeks ago ; but I am bound to 
say that my chief reason for coming now is a promise 
which I gave to Lady Helen this afternoon. I went 
to Park Street on our return from Ascot, and was 
with her when she discovered that her children had 
been carried off. Her distress was so terrible that I 
immediately offered to come down here and see after 
them, since she could not come herself; and in her 
own kind way she expressed her gratitude for my 
offer. Of course I was not aware, until I met our 
good friend Stewart at St. Pancras, that you had come 
down or that he was coming. Even if I had known, 
I should still, perhaps, have felt it my duty to keep 
my promise to Lady Helen.” 

At this speech, delivered in his most pompous voice 
and most impressive manner, St. Ives could hardly 
restrain his delight. A picture rose in his mind of 
Dudley Merivale entertaining a party of trainers and 
jockeys at a rowdy dinner-party, and insisting on the 
children being present, and of Hopper coming in to 
rescue them, and of their maid assisting him to put 
them to bed ; and, after a desperate but unsuccessful 
effort at self-control, he began to giggle helplessly. 
Hopper looked offended, and not wishing to annoy 
him prematurely, St. Ives began to apologize. Supper 
for two was hastily prepared, and at the end of it St. 
Ives renewed the subject. 

“To carry out your promise properly,” he said, 
“ you ought to go upstairs now and verify my state- 
ment that the children are here and in bed. Would 
you like to take my word for it, or shall we send 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


205 


for the housekeeper and tell her to show them to 
you? There will be a bit of a row if you wake them 
up, but duty is duty.” 

‘‘ Ah, Lord St. Ives, if you had seen Lady Helen 
this afternoon you would not laugh at me ! ” The 
American, who had as much sense of humour as a 
cow, began to grow sentimental again. “ Her grief 
was dreadful. I would have thrown up any engage- 
ment in the world to help her.” 

“ It sounds very serious indeed.” 

I cannot imagine. Lord St. Ives, how you can 
allow her to live any longer with that man. Surely a 
separation is inevitable sooner or later, and every 
month which she spends with him must take a year 
off her life.” 

St. Ives lifted his eyebrows in surprise, partly real 
and partly affected. Hopper had never deliberately 
begun a discussion of family affairs in this fashion 
before. 

“ Your paternal feelings do you great credit,” he 
said ; “ but I am afraid the subject is rather too delicate 
a one for slight after-dinner conversation. If ever 
one of your own daughters marries a man like Dudley 
Merivale you will understand how little ” 

“ ‘ One of my daughters ? ’ It will be some time 
to wait before I have a daughter and she grows up 
and wants to be married. Perhaps by that time I 
shall understand and sympathize with your silence.” 

Now that we’re talking about these family affairs, 
do you mind my asking you one question? The two 
girls who were dining with you on Friday night are 
your daughters, aren’t they? Is there any special 
object in concealing the fact? I am at your orders 
if you wish me to keep silence, but. upon my word 
I should rather like to know the reason for it.” 


14 


206 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


The American turned a white, furious face to 
Geoffrey with a look which said, “ If this is your do- 
ing you shall pay a price for it” The look alarmed 
Geoffrey so much that he lost his head completely, 
and could realize nothing except that at all costs 
Hopper’s mind must be disabused of the idea that he 
had been telling tales to St. Ives. No one could 
foresee the end of a quarrel with Hopper. Geoffrey 
would not wait to see whether Hopper wished to 
deny St. Ives’s suggestion; he merely saw that the 
denial would be useless, and was more likely than 
not to lead to a row. 

“ I have never seen the object of it myself,” he 
said with a rather unhappy attempt to smile. “ I think 
the idea was that they would give Mr. Hopper less 
trouble socially if every one thought that they were 
his nieces. No one would feel it necessary to take 
very much trouble about his nieces ; whereas, in the 
case of his daughters, they might have felt obliged 
to repay some of Mr. Hopper’s lavish hospitalities. I 
think that was the only reason for the deception, wasn’t 
it ? Is there any need to carry it on ? ” 

“ You knew the truth, then? ” St. Ives asked the 
question in a low voice, and Geoffrey felt quite sick 
under the look of pain which accompanied it. He 
nodded “ Yes,” and all the amusement and laughter 
died out of St. Ives’s face. A sudden, half-understood 
feeling of being entirely alone, without a friend or 
confidant in the world, came over him now ; his good 
joke was a joke no longer, and in all life there was 
nothing left to laugh at. Stewart was sufficiently 
accustomed to reading his patron’s moods to under- 
stand all that was passing in his mind, but he had no 
time to heed it. He had to save himself. 

“ By the way,” he asked, interrupting Hopper as 


A FOOL’S YEAR 20 ^ 

the latter was again about to speak, who told you 
all this?’^ 

“ A man called Freene ; I met him this afternoon 
at Ross’s house. He’s a relation of yours, I believe,” 
said the marquis, turning to Hopper. He had become 
perfectly indifferent to the latter’s feelings about all 
this, and could hardly raise a touch of interest or 
amusement when the American jumped out of his 
chair, shouting volleys of abuse at Freene. St. Ives 
knew nothing now and cared for nothing, except that 
a very long friendship had vanished out of his life. 
He was thinking only of Geoffrey. Cyrus Hopper 
might have had ten wives, and nine of them alive, 
and half a dozen of them in London, and St. Ives 
would have invited the whole party to dinner quite 
cheerfully, if this evening’s work might be undone. 
Quite late that night it suddenly occurred to him 
that this man had been proposing to marry Maura, 
and to make her the step-mother of two daughters 
older than herself ; and he felt a little indignant, but 
not much. Something would probably have occurred 
to stop the marriage; but nothing which would ever 
happen now, in this world or the next, could restore 
his friendship with his young kinsman. 

Hopper was saying something; the loud, assertive 
voice which had slowly been getting on his nerves 
during the past few weeks was booming out explana- 
tions and apologies. St. Ives understood the voice to 
say that the two girls themselves had wished for the 
deception, desiring not to be run after as the daughters 
and heiresses of a notorious millionaire. Very likely 
the explanation was true; it had a plausible sound, 
and if any man except this one had given it, St. Ives 
might have felt inclined to believe it. Probably the 
statement, being Flopper’s, was a lie ; but St. Ives was 


208 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


indifferent. Whether the explanation was true or false, 
Geoffrey had sided with the Hoppers in deceiving 
him. 

The American went upstairs, rather grateful than 
otherwise that this inevitable revelation was over, and 
very much surprised at the apparent indifference with 
which it had been received. It might make some 
difference as regarded his suit for Maura, but not much 
as far as present indications went. He might be asked 
to increase the amount of his settlement on her, but 
he was quite willing to do that. The whole subject 
should be discussed and finally settled to-morrow. 

His confidence in his success with regard to Maura 
might have been a little shaken if he had seen Maura's 
father walking down the garden-path, with Geoffrey 
by his side pouring out eager apologies. “ He didn’t 
mean to keep up the deception,” the young man was 
saying eagerly ; “ he would have told you directly the 
girls had gone. What object could he have had in 
telling you such a yarn except to save himself a little 
trouble? It was a stupid lie, without anything very 
vicious at the back of it.” 

“ And do you think, Geoffrey,” asked the other 
with the keenest possible pain in his voice, “ that I 
care a farthing if a man like that lied to me from 
now to Doomsday? The fellow is the scum of the 
Chicago gutters, and although he is rather an inter- 
esting person, and so strong-willed that he can force 
us to stay with him and dine with him and invite him 
to our houses, what do you suppose any of his words 
or actions really matter to us? He may have sup- 
posed that they mattered to us, just as he supposed, 
and I believe Lady St. Ives supposed too, that he 
would be allowed to marry Maura; but, in point of 
fact, one idea was as absurd as the other. I ignored 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


209 


the marriage question as long as I could, and argued 
against it politely as long as I could, and in the end 
I should have sent the fellow about his business very 
much as I should kick one of Angela’s toads out 
of the house if it began to annoy me. But you — the 
idea that you were siding with the man, that you were 
sharing in his secret and helping to keep it from me, 
is a horrible thought. Don’t you understand that it 
matters nothing to me whether the fellow had com- 
mitted half a dozen murders or ordered the wrong 
sauce for some fish at one of his dinner-parties ? But 
it mattered everything that when I tried to find out 
something about his doings you should help him to 
keep them from me.” 

It struck me as such a trifling matter,” said 
Geoffrey weakly. 

“ Did it ? ” asked the other, and then stood there 
looking down the Bury Hill to the little town which 
lay sleeping at its foot. Something had gone wrong. 
Six months ago his young protegee would at least 
have understood what he meant, and why he was 
hurt. Now he thought it sufficient answer to call the 
actual matter of the offence a trifling one. St. Ives 
had yet to learn how rapidly and completely a great 
wrong can smudge the keen lines which used to 
separate evil and good, and can make every minor 
fault seem beneath notice. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A General Election took place during the sum- 
mer, and the private affairs of the St. Ives family were 
for the moment put aside. At any rate discussion of 
them was suspended, since a man’s own private life 
rarely, I suppose, ceases to hold the first place of inter- 
est in his own mind. You may sit and listen with more 
or less of respect — mostly less, and with the thought 
of how much better you could do it yourself — to an 
orator shouting laudation of everybody who agrees 
with him and damnation of everybody who doesn’t, 
and feel pretty certain that as he drives home to-night 
the cheers or hisses of this audience will not form a 
very prominent part in his thoughts. His favourite 
child is down with the measles, a friend is making 
fierce love to his wife, his creditors are pressing him 
for the payment of a dozen big bills, a burning sensa- 
tion in his toe hints at an attack of gout ; and, even 
while fluent sentences gush forth about empire, liberty, 
vaccination, glory, leasehold enfranchisement, educa- 
tion, and road-paving, he is thinking of a new doctor 
or wondering where he can get a thousand pounds. 
But for decency’s sake he talks about the election 
even to his wife and children. 

St. Ives, as he wrote newspaper letters and gave 
private advice to a score of candidates, was wondering 
what mischief his wife was doing in Scotland with 
Maura; Geoffrey, as he rushed about Norfolk and 


210 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


211 


Suffolk making speeches, was wondering when he 
would be able to join the Hoppers in Perth ; Helen, 
as she canvassed a division of Cambridgeshire on 
behalf of her favourite cousin, was wondering why 
Geoffrey didn’t come to help her; and Dudley Meri- 
vale, as he lent his valuable support to the Liberal 
candidate for York by taking the chair at his meetings, 
was chuckling over the new and successful method he 
had discovered of annoying his wife. 

Mr. Merivale’s sudden removal of his two children 
to Newmarket on the Saturday after the Ascot meeting 
had been such a brilliant success in the way of creating 
annoyance and confusion, that he had repeated it sev- 
eral times since that date, and it never failed, to use 
his own graphic language, in getting a rise out of 
the whole family, and making them curse till all was 
blue. Strict orders were given to nurses and attend- 
ants that the children were never to be allowed to 
leave the house in their father’s company without 
warning being given either at Cornwall House or to 
Lady Helen, if her whereabouts were known ; but the 
orders merely lent additional zest to Dudley’s new 
amusement. He would come back unexpectedly from 
visits, enter the house unseen or unnoticed, except by 
an amused footman, find the children by themselves 
in some room, send them for their hats, and carry 
them off to Westgate or Brighton for an indefinite 
number of days. Another day he would meet them 
in the park, put them into a carriage, drive them 
down to Richmond or some neighbouring suburb, 
and keep them there till he and they ceased to be 
amused. The little creatures, whose life was not very 
amusing, and who were quite old enough to dislike 
the quarrels of which they were continually the witness 
and so often the object, were not altogether unwilling 


212 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


to come ; and though they were always told by their 
mother to refuse, they neither could nor would do 
so, and began at last to regard these trips as the 
greatest treat in their life. The skill displayed by 
Dudley in buying new clothes, and providing the 
small pair with food and amusement, entertained some 
of the family friends considerably, and after the chil- 
dren’s return from some such expedition, even St. 
Ives strolled into Park Street to hear where they 
had been and what they had been doing. Privately, 
the marquis thought Dudley’s new occupation equally 
beneficial to himself and his family ; but he was obliged 
to sympathize with Helen and write an occasional repri- 
mand to the father. Helen’s frantic appeals for help 
had grown very wearisome to him by the end of the 
London season, and he was rather relieved when the 
election compelled him to leave her to her own devices. 

The last weeks of the London summer had not 
greatly improved Geoffrey’s spirits or temper, and 
he found himself sometimes, to his intense amaze- 
ment, looking back with regret to the busy days of 
his life as Lord St. Ives’s secretary. He read the 
letters which now so frequently appeared in the news- 
papers beginning : “I am directed by the Marquis 
of St. Ives to inform you — ” and thought to himself, 
repeatedly, that such and such a sentence did not very 
precisely express what he knew to be St. Ives’s mean- 
ing, and that this or that word was remarkably ill- 
chosen. His own political labours struck him as very 
Jejune and unimportant compared to what he had 
been doing at the last election. Then, sometimes, a 
happy phrase of his would find its way into the leading 
articles in London daily newspapers with an approving 
comment attached to it ; now it was much if one of 
his speeches was reported in a local weekly paper. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


213 


Certainly he was recognised as first among the crowd 
of peripatetic orators who drove at a gallop all over 
East Anglia upholding the Conservative cause, but 
he was not very proud of the distinction. He had 
served in heaven for a long time, and it did not 
interest him now to rule in hell. Also his candidate 
was badly beaten, and the party leaders were annoyed, 
and St. Ives laughed unkindly. 

The election ended in a Conservative victory, and 
the marquis went back to the India Office. He was 
naturally somewhat busy, and was extremely angry 
to receive a telegram from Helen saying that the two 
children, who had been left at Bury Hill House, had 
been carried off by their father, no one knew where. 
She implored him to come down and help her. For the 
first time this proceeding really annoyed St. Ives ; when 
it occurred in Park Street he was partly amused and 
partly rather pleased at the children having a short 
holiday from the unedifying surroundings of their 
mother’s life ; but by themselves, in his house, they 
were equally safe and happy, and it was a stupid piece 
of impertinence on the part of Dudley to come there 
and carry them off. He went down to Newmarket 
by the next train, resolved to find the young man and 
speak his mind. 

Arrived at Bury Hill House, he found, what he 
might very well have suspected, that Helen’s message 
contained a very small part of the truth. She had 
arrived there herself three days before; two of her 
most objectionable followers had come down to the 
Rutland Arms and spent the greater part of the day 
with her and the children at Bury Hill House, and 
Dudley’s feat had been as admirable as it was daring. 
While every one supposed him to be at the St. Leger 
Meeting at Doncaster, he had come down to New- 


214 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


market, met his children out walking on the heath, 
and to their unbounded delight carried them off to 
Felixstowe, where he had made a large investment in 
sun-hats, holland frocks, spades, and paddling-drawers, 
and left the babes in a state of perfect bliss. He him- 
self sat in the garden of the Bath Hotel smoking 
cigars, reading the sporting papers, and without a 
regret in the world except for the recent victory of 
his father-in-law’s political party. 

Unfortunately, however, something occurred to 
mar the success of this expedition. For the first three 
or four times when he had tried this new amusement, 
Dudley had taken extreme pains to prevent any acci- 
dents, watching the two children’s amusements, food, 
and companions as carefully as a new governess or 
a young mother of the last century; but presently he 
grew a little careless, and so long as the small pair 
professed to be pleased and looked reasonably well, 
did not watch them very closely. In a hundred other 
seaside places, at this particular moment, matters would 
have gone on all right as usual, but he had selected 
an unlucky moment for a visit to Felixstowe. 

The small people were paddling very contentedly 
one day, while their nurse sat on the beach mending 
holes in their stockings and wondering to herself at 
what point on its journey her dutiful letter of informa- 
tion to Lady Helen Merivale had been intercepted by 
Mr. Merivale; when, looking up, she noticed a very 
beautiful and extravagantly dressed person coming 
down the steps on to the sands. As this personage 
approached nearer, Mrs. Ashton began to modify her 
admiration for the lady’s personal appearance, though 
not for her clothes. The beauty was certainly there, 
but it had previously been dispersed among a good 
many shops in the Burlington Arcade, and its com- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


215 


ponent parts had not, on this present morning, been 
put together with any great care. Perhaps madame 
had left her maid at home and had tried to decorate 
herself with her own unaccustomed hands ; perhaps 
she thought that the population of Felixstowe sands 
were not particular about the nice shading of the rouge 
or the exact thickness of the powder which covered 
it. However that might be, the general effect was 
rather alarming; and the colour of her hair and the 
make and colour of her dress, though doubtless the 
last thing in the world, were more striking than har- 
monious on the beach of the little Suffolk village. 
Mrs. Ashton had every opportunity for studying and 
condemning the newcomer’s appearance, for she ad- 
vanced straight towards where she was sitting, and 
finally, very much to the nurse’s alarm, stopped to 
speak to her. 

“ Surely,” she said in a low, rather pretty voice, 
that is little Angela Merivale and her brother who 
are paddling there? I may go and speak to them, 
mayn’t I ? Mr. Merivale has so often promised to in- 
troduce them to me, and by a series of unlucky chances 
Lady Helen and I never managed to meet.” 

Mrs. Ashton rose to her feet, every instinct within 
her disbelieving this assertion and crying out a warn- 
ing of danger. For a moment the two women con- 
fronted one another; but Mademoiselle Tina Delile 
was an actress as well as a music-hall singer, and she 
played her part now with sufficient skill to make the 
nurse hesitate. 

“ They are paddling, madam,” she said weakly, and 
dared say no more, when the other woman answered 
lightly : 

'' Oh, but they will come out and speak to me for 
a moment ! ” 


2i6 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Nothing more was to be done, unless the nurse 
was prepared to interpose herself bodily between this 
newcomer and the children, and for this she was not 
quite prepared. Possibly a reckoning might have to 
come with Lady Helen if this person was allowed now 
to have her way ; but evidently a more immediate 
reckoning would come with Mr. Merivale, if she were 
not. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, in the very 
widest sense of the words, and for the moment Mr. 
Merivale was master of the situation. The motto of 
the servants’ hall in such an establishment as that of 
the Merivales’ is, “ Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow 
we shall get a month’s notice, whatever we do.” Mrs. 
Ashton, a newcomer and inferior person, like most 
of Lady Helen’s servants, decided that it would be less 
trouble to decline the battle and let things take their 
course. 

Mademoiselle Delile advanced to the edge of the 
sea and called Angela and Denis to her. The children 
were sufficiently accustomed to being greeted by 
strangers, and came to her readily enough. When, 
at the end of a few moments’ talk, she produced a 
gold bon-bon box and invited them to help themselves, 
they were quite ready to adopt the stranger as a friend, 
and to accept without questioning her statement that 
she knew their parents intimately. Presently Mad- 
emoiselle Delile proposed that they should walk with 
her along the sands to where bountiful Nature had 
provided rocks full of little pools of water and covered 
with seaweed and shells, on which one could slip and 
get thoroughly wet. The children were tired of pad- 
dling, and willingly accepted an offer to follow a leader 
who was provided with brilliant ideas for amusement 
and a large box of sweets, and said that they would 
at once put on their shoes and stockings. Mrs. Ashton 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


217 


Stood by anxious and irresolute, searching the unfa- 
miliar beach for assistance, while Mademoiselle Delile, 
summoning to her aid the lore of far-off Margate 
days, brought up buckets of water, washed the small 
feet, and proceeded to separate four ridiculously small 
shoes and stockings into pairs. She was bending over 
this occupation, laughing and joking with the little 
owners of the stockings, who were now on the friend- 
liest terms with her, and did not therefore see a sight 
which sent the blood flaming scarlet into Mrs. Ashton's 
face, and made her kneel down hurriedly by mad- 
emoiselle’s side in a vigorous attempt to interpose 
between her and Denis. Lord St. Ives and Lady 
Helen Merivale were walking towards the little group, 
and in the inspiration which comes at such moments, 
Mrs. Ashton saw that explanations would be asked 
of this new visitor’s proceedings, and that, so far as 
her explanation went, it was not likely to be pro- 
nounced satisfactory. 

Mademoiselle Delile looked up too, at last, and 
saw the pair advancing across the sands, and thought 
to herself that she could put her finger on some sands 
where there was going to be trouble. She was sorry ; 
the touch of the children’s feet had given her a new and 
curious sensation which made her want to cry, and 
want to stay away from her music hall for two or 
three weeks longer. Babes of this kind did not usually 
play with her, and accept her chocolates, and let her 
carry them over stones. St. Ives came up to her, 
asking if Lady Helen Merivale had the pleasure of 
her acquaintance ; and when she laughed, he muttered 
something about the necessity of having police on 
the sands to prevent this kind of thing. The woman 
looked him up and down, and a retort in choice Lime- 
house dialect, flavoured by transpontine music-hall 


2I8 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


slang, rose to her lips ; then she glanced at the children 
for a moment, nodded good-bye to them, and went 
laughing away. 

For about the sixth time in his life St. Ives felt 
rather scared, and the incident frightened even Helen 
into silence. They supposed, not unnaturally, that 
Dudley was staying here with Mademoiselle Delile, 
and had carried out at last his frequently expressed in- 
tention of introducing her to his family. The evidence 
of this grew conclusive in St. Ives’s mind, and his 
rage knew no bounds. He had been hoodwinked 
completely by his son-in-law, believing that the latter 
was entertaining his children in a perfectly harmless 
if somewhat unconventional manner. In point of fact, 
he now supposed this woman, or some one like her, 
had been with the children during all their visits. He 
would not have believed it of Dudley; neither, on 
reflection, would he have believed that he himself could 
be so criminally negligent as to let these tricks be 
played again and again without finding out whether 
any harm was being done. He was angry with him- 
self ; if any younger man had been here, St. Ives would 
have prayed him to horsewhip Mr. Merivale. 

As it was, a sufficiently lively scene took place in 
the garden of the Bath Hotel. Unluckily, Mademoi- 
selle Delile had gone straight to where she knew that 
Dudley was sitting, and told him part of the truth; 
namely, that she had just arrived, had heard of his 
children’s presence, and had gone out to look for them 
without saying anything to him. 

“You said nothing, my good girl, because you 
knew perfectly well that I’d have come out and 
smacked your head if I’d known you were going to 
do anything of the sort. Now, you look here; you 
can clear out of this place by the next train, or, I 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


219 


give you my sacred word of honour, Til sell that 
house of yours to-morrow, and never give you another 
farthing of money as long as I live. I tell you that, 
mind you, and will make you do it, not because I 
care a curse what my wife says, but because I myself 
won’t have you speak to the children. At the same 
time I don’t mind confessing that I’d pay a thousand 
pounds to prevent my wife hearing that you have 
spoken to them already, and very likely I shall have 
to pay their fool of a nurse a good part of a thousand 
to prevent her telling.” 

“ Well, I’m sorry, old boy ; I’m really sorry, because 
you’ve been awfully good to me; but the fact is that 
she and old St. Ives have just found me on the beach 
talking to them. They are carrying the children of¥ 
somewhere — to the station, I should guess. And then 
I judge they’ll come back here. And then I expect 
there’ll be fur flying. Great Scott ! Here they are ! ” 

My lord and his daughter, in fact, appeared in the 
garden at this moment; Dudley Merivale jumped up 
with an ashen-white face and a look at Mademoiselle 
Delile which caused her to go over her list of lovers and 
consider which of them would make the best successor 
to Mr. Merivale. She looked on at the meeting with 
grim amusement, being always ready to extract all 
possible fun from an unpleasing situation, and in her 
mind she composed a speech to be delivered to Lady 
Helen at parting. Dudley was apparently assuring 
his father-in-law, on his word of honour, that he had 
only just discovered Mademoiselle Delile’s presence 
at Felixstowe, and St. Ives was waving aside the words 
with gestures of contempt. Then Mademoiselle De- 
lile stepped forward and delivered her speech. It was 
quite brief and clear, because the speaker eschewed 
all slang which she supposed her hearers would not 


220 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


understand; but it was also emphatic, because she 
used a good many words which, though unheard in 
polite society, were perfectly comprehensible and war- 
ranted to lend vigour to any address. The substance 
of her remarks was that she had just arrived, that she 
had spoken to the children without seeing or speaking 
to Dudley Merivale, and that she was in every way 
as fit and proper a person to play with small children 
as Lady Helen herself. Then she drew a brief but 
striking comparison between her own life and Lady 
Helen’s, expressing her conviction that the balance 
of morality was equal, and the balance of amusement 
lay in favour of herself. The speech was only inter- 
rupted by one murmured ‘‘ Oh, I say, shut up now ! ” 
from Dudley, and a stern “ Come away, Helen ; don’t 
answer her,” from St. Ives. Lady Helen Merivale 
went away obediently, but Mademoiselle Defile’s 
speech was burnt into her brain for the rest of her fife. 

She remembered it, in truth, so well that on return- 
ing to Bury Hill House she sat down and began to 
think, an unfamiliar exercise which finally reduced 
her to tears. The conclusion at which she arrived 
was, naturally, that everything was her husband’s fault ; 
that she was formed by nature to be a brilliantly clever 
and strictly moral leader of society, and that he had 
thrust her back from this high position and forced her 
to five a fife of dullness and misery in which consola- 
tion was imperative. The only consolation which her 
highly strung nature and brilliant intelligence could 
find was the friendship and sympathy of great intellects 
like her own, especially male intellects, who would 
occasionally stoop from the serene heights of their 
philosophic contemplation to comment on her beauty 
and say they adored her. It was unfortunate that 
these intellects should be shut up in male bodies. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


221 


and mixed up with male passions, which were not 
always strictly under control ; but that, of course, was 
also her husband’s fault. He ought to have been 
present at this intercourse of great souls, and been 
ready to check the slightest symptom of mere earthly 
feeling. Who was there now in the world to whom 
she could turn for help and protection? There was 
nobody except Geoffrey Stewart. It was her positive 
duty, for the sake of herself and her children, in the 
absence of all help from her husband, to maintain the 
closest friendship with him, to detach him from this 
American girl, to keep him to herself for the rest of 
their two lives. This was her only hope of salvation ; 
and she would write to him at once, telling him to 
come to Newmarket and stay with her. 

Yet the proceedings of the morning had been a 
great and real shock to this woman. St. Ives’s anger 
and alarm had impressed her with fears as to what 
the rest of the world would say about such a business ; 
and having some slight, vague affection for her chil- 
dren, she had been for a few moments quite genuinely 
angry at the sight which she had seen on the Felix- 
stowe sands. Three times during the past four months 
she had experienced a touch of real feeling : once when 
she had discovered that Geoffrey was in love with 
somebody else ; once more when her second favourite 
lover had won a doubtful election in Cambridgeshire 
by her aid ; and again now, when, as she supposed, 
Dudley had taken his children to stay with one of his 
mistresses. Such unfamiliar grips of reality were 
almost too much for her ; one after another they seized 
her weak brain, clutched its flabby, thin nerves, and 
shook it till the life seemed to be going out of her. 
She genuinely needed support, and there was none 
at hand. On one side of her was her husband’s 


15 


222 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


indifference, on the other side her father’s stinging 
contempt ; all round her were men who would play 
at being intellectual for an hour on condition that 
they might make love to her for the rest of the day, 
while the women stood back and speculated how soon 
she would compromise herself. The life, impartially 
considered, was certainly not a happy one; and Tina 
Delile, though of course she wanted her tongue cut 
out for speaking of her own morality and Lady Helen’s 
in the same breath, had spoken the truth when she 
said that her own code produced more fun than 
Helen’s. 


CHAPTER XIX 


The letter to Geoffrey was written, and as it was 
accompanied by another from St. Ives explaining in 
more sober language what had taken place, it brought 
the young man down to Newmarket next day. St. 
Ives said simply that he had no time to attend to his 
daughter’s affairs. The new Cabinet had just been 
formed, a thousand questions had to be settled, hours 
of routine work had to be got through every day, 
and at the very beginning of the new Government 
the Indian Secretary dared not let his mind be occupied 
day and night by family troubles. He was a bigger 
personage in this Government than he had been in the 
last, and had only taken his old office because he knew 
its work very intimately, and would have more time 
left for party warfare. Geoffrey Stewart must arbi- 
trate in the Merivale family affairs, and must only 
come to him for a final decision. 

Stewart looked very grave over the story which 
was told to him now. The immediate effect of this 
incident might be nothing, but it introduced a new 
element into the case. Geoffrey had thought up till 
now that Mr. Merivale was a weak-minded and doubt- 
less very unpleasing person, who disliked his wife 
intensely, and might at some future date, under unusu- 
ally severe provocation, box her ears. Many of his 
habits were nasty; the dinner-party last May, for 
instance, which had finished up in the police-court, 

223 


224 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


was not a nice adventure for one’s friends to be mixed 
up in, but so far he seemed inclined to draw the line 
at mere rowdy misbehaviour. This last proceeding 
was different. Geoffrey was not extravagantly senti- 
mental about small children, but a man who could de- 
liberately take two of them on such a visit as Merivale 
had planned and carried out had something very wrong 
about him. If he had tricked his wife into an intro- 
duction to such a person, Stewart would have sympa- 
thized warmly with her anger, and allowed that it was 
an outrage on decency which merited some kind of 
punishment. But the other incident was an intensely 
repulsive one — something which could not be argued 
about or bear any very elaborate explanation of its 
criminality; it simply left you anxious to horsewhip 
the man who had taken part in it. There were 
moments when Geoffrey was half-inclined to believe 
Merivale’s version of the story — the more apparently 
obvious one, of whose truth St. Ives was convinced, 
did not altogether square with Stewart’s notion of the 
other’s character. 

Helen, however, would not listen to any such story, 
and was extremely indignant when Stewart asked her 
how she knew that it was not true. “ Do you come 
to me,” she asked, “ as a friend of my husband’s, and 
ask me to accept the word of one of his horrible women 
for such a silly story as that? She comes down, by 
accident, to the same seaside place and the same hotel 
as he has just chosen. Dp coincidences like that ever 
happen ? ” 

“ Felixstowe is a very ordinary place to go to, and 
mid-September is a very ordinary time for a visit there, 
and there is only one hotel in the place. The nurse 
said that she had never seen the woman before she 
came on to the sands that morning.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


225 


Geoffrey, I am simply too tired and too sick to 
listen to such nonsense or answer it. What on earth 
is your object in trying to make me believe such a 
silly story? Has Dudley sent you here to say that 
he wants to take the children away again ; because if 
so you can just tell him that he won’t do it? Mrs. 
Ashton has been turned out of the house ; the footman 
who saw Dudley take the children away from here 
has been dismissed, and father and I have simply told 
all the servants that any one who sees this trick being 
played again, and doesn’t stop it, will be turned out 
of the house without any wages. We don’t care a 
farthing for any law about the matter; if Dudley tries 
this business again, the men-servants have orders to 
knock him down, while the others send for a police- 
man. Don’t let’s talk any more about that silly part 
of the business. There’s nothing to be gained by it, 
and it simply tires me. The only question is. Are we 
going to live together any longer ? ” 

“ Indeed, Helen, I’m dreadfully sorry about it ; 
but I wasn’t thinking of defending Dudley or coming 
to you on his behalf. I’m simply awfully sorry for 
you, and am wondering how we can best help 
you.” 

The woman looked at him with a curious, wonder- 
ing look, and slightly shook her head. “No, I don’t 
think you’re dreadfully sorry for me, or spend very 
much time nowadays thinking how you can help me. 
I have wearied you with my complaints; I have tired 
out all my friends like that, and I have tired you out 
too. It would be silly of me to be much surprised. 
I can’t bear a life like mine without complaining of 
it; some people can, and can laugh and joke with 
every afternoon caller and every dinner companion 
while their whole life is hell, and every one of their 


226 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


companions know it. I can’t do that. When some 
one hurts me horribly, I scream and am furious, and 
if some one comes to call on me directly afterward, I 
tell them about it, and get into another rage while 
I am telling them ; and I can’t and won’t talk about 
anything else. That bores everybody. It bores you. 
In ten years’ time I shall be the greatest social terror 
in London. I sha’n’t be pretty any longer, and it will 
be too much trouble to be well dressed. Nobody will 
come and see me, or invite me to see them, except 
persons who want a duchess with a hundred thousand 
a year at their dinner-tables at any price. And the 
knowledge that all this is coming does not make me 
any happier now.” 

The words were so painfully true that every one 
of them sent a thrill of pain through Geofirey. He 
could not stay the torrent of them or calm the speaker, 
who might indeed have been overhearing and repeating 
half a score of remarks of this kind made about her 
during the past summer. If Geofirey abandoned her, 
she certainly would not have a friend left in the world. 
He stood before her now, full of remorse at the thought 
that, even to himself, he had ever called her trouble- 
some and exacting. That childhood friendship must 
not die so easily as this ; it must not be killed by a 
few weeks of another love ; it must endure, believe, 
hope a little longer. Some vague idea that he could 
perhaps expiate his wrong-doing by giving up the 
higher love which fate seemed to put in his way, 
and devoting himself to soothing and helping the 
unhappy woman who had looked to him for help 
during so many past years, was in his mind now. The 
thought lightened a load on his heart, and his voice 
was much kinder and gentler as he answered her by 
assurances that never in her life had any of her troubles 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


227 


wearied him for a moment; that he had no affection 
in the world to rival his love for her, and that he 
wanted nothing now except to make her happy in 
the surest possible way. 

There was so much truth in his voice as he told 
her all this, that after a moment of battling with her- 
self Helen began to cry, and to sob out apologies and 
gratitude and relief. He went through the business 
of soothing her into silence and inducing her to con- 
sider her future, more easily than he had expected, 
and even feeling again some slight pleasure in such 
a task. She was so entirely dependent on him, he 
had such absolute control of her life that he must, 
perforce, feel at least such affection for her as he would 
for a child who must ask his permission for every act 
of her life. And in this friendship there was no 
haunting sense of danger as in the other; that other 
love could go no further without risk of a horrible 
accusation and condemnation ; with Patricia he was 
walking round the edge of a volcano crater in eruption, 
and the next eruption might overwhelm him. He 
would be annihilated, and she would look on con- 
temptuously, only angry to think that he had ven- 
tured to stand by her side while he was in danger of 
such a fate. With Helen, on the other hand, he would 
always be supreme; in her he would find no trouble- 
some ideals to be looked up to and lived up to. When 
he thought about her opinion at all, which was not 
very often, he came to the possibly unfair conclusion 
that in the event of an exposure she would rather 
admire him for what he had done. Life was more 
comfortable witli Helen. 

Yet with her, too, there were anxieties. She was 
bent on separation from her husband, in which it must 
be admitted she was not without excuse ; and Geoffrey 


228 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


was well aware that neither St. Ives nor the Duke 
of Dorset would even discuss such a measure. Let 
the husband and wife keep apart, in fact, as much as 
they pleased, said the duke ; but, nominally, they had 
to live together, and no pen-and-ink document con- 
taining any definite agreement about such a matter 
should be drawn up with his consent. Beyond a very 
small sum settled on him at his marriage, Dudley was 
dependent for his income on an allowance made by 
the duke, an allowance which might in theory, and 
did in fact, vary between two thousand a year and 
ten; so that defiance of the old man’s orders was 
impossible. St. Ives could only give a small dowry 
to his daughter, and certainly could not allow her 
any more at the present moment. The duke was 
master of the situation. 

“ I always meant to be, my dear sir,” he said one 
morning when Geoffrey came, very reluctantly, to 
discuss the matter with him. “ I knew my nephew 
intimately, and I had a pretty clear idea of the kind 
of girl he was going to marry. You can keep people 
of that sort in order from the day they’re six years 
old to the day they die by one means only: you pay 
them for behaving themselves, and refuse to pay them 
when they misbehave themselves. That’s why I said, 
at the time of their marriage, that I’d only settle three 
thousand a year on them, and you can go and ask 
St. Ives now if I wasn’t quite right. They’ve both 
run moderately straight up till now, not because they 
care a farthing about decency, but because neither of 
them can get along without heaps of money. Well, 
the arguments which have served them for the last 
eight or nine years must go on serving them. Time 
hasn’t improved Dudley or Helen, and time hasn’t 
altered my resolution; so we stand just where we 


A FOOL’S YEAR 22g 

stood on the day of their wedding. How are you 
liking your own new fortune, Mr. Stewart?” 

“ I can’t say it’s as exciting a possession as I 
expected,” said Geoffrey rather gloomily ; “ I’m very 
glad to get Ince Weston repaired, but otherwise the 
joke seems to hang fire a bit. I can have my friends 
to lunch at all the swagger restaurants in London and 
Paris, but Lord St. Ives used to let me bring them 
all to Cornwall House pretty nearly whenever I liked, 
and do you know I believe they preferred it? I can 
give people very neat presents whenever I want to, 
but somehow or other all my acquaintances seem to 
have everything they want. The money came so sud- 
denly, you see, that I had no time to consider before- 
hand how I wanted to spend it. If you must pass 
three years in an accountant’s office before you can 
know how to manage other people’s money, it will 
certainly take you an equal amount of time to learn 
how to spend your own.” 

“ That may be so. Your money, if I remember, 
came quite unexpectedly. From some cousin in 
Mexico, wasn’t it?” 

“ No ; oh, no. I don’t know how that story 
started.” 

“ Where did it come from ? ” 

“ I’m sorry ; it’s a tiresome restriction, but I’m 
not able to tell you.” 

“ Not able to tell me ! ” The duke stared in aston- 
ishment at his young companion, who had not been 
asked this question for many weeks now, and was 
looking extremely uncomfortable under its repetition. 
“ How on earth can there be any secret about where 
a million pounds comes from, and if there is one, 
what’s the object of keeping it ? Any form of plunder, 
from a Stock-Exchange deal down to a bank robbery. 


230 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


would merely be admired if it produced such a sum; 
one would be proud of the most discreditable relation, 
and trumpet his history all over the country, if he left 
one a million.” 

I don’t think you would, duke.” 

“ Well, well, perhaps I might wish to make the 
best of him. But I didn’t know you kept people of 
that sort in your family. Was it one of the Stewarts 
or one of poor Isabel’s people? You don’t mind 
telling me that? ” 

“ But I never said it was a relation at all who’d 
left me the money.” 

“ A casual acquaintance whom you met in the 
street died and left you a million pounds, and asked 
you to say nothing about it ? My dear chap, if it isn’t 
a very rude question, don’t you find that people stare 
a little when you tell them about him? I am afraid 
I should laugh.” 

“ But I never said that anybody had left me any 
money,” said Geoft'rey, beginning very foolishly to 
lose his temper ; and nobody has asked me anything 
about him ; and if they have begun to ask questions, 
they have mostly stopped when I said that I wasn’t 
at liberty to answer.” 

'‘Have they?” The duke laughed. “You give 
the world a character for polite self-restraint which I 
should hardly have thought it deserved. I don’t wish 
to disabuse you of your belief in mankind’s lack of 
vulgar curiosity, but my impression is that those people 
went on asking questions for some time afterward, 
even if they stopped asking them from you. And now 
I come to think of it, I have been ‘ pumped ’ myself 
more than once, but I knew nothing about the mat- 
ter, and never supposed till this morning that there 
was anything especially interesting to know. Will 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


231 


you think me very vulgar if I confess to you that 
you have roused my curiosity considerably, and 
that I shall probably take some steps to satisfy 
it ? They will be very harmless steps ; but between 
myself and various other inquirers, I expect that 
you and St. Ives will not keep your secret much 
longer.” 

“ Lord St. Ives does not know, either.” 

“ Eh ? Really ? This is becoming positively thrill- 
ing. I feel like Sherlock Holmes. Let me consider 
what clews I have. You got your fortune quite sud- 
denly in May, I believe, and it all came in one lump. 
Now I must look up your family pedigree. Is this 
rather rude? I judge from your face that you think 
so, and don’t like it much. The affair is not a joke, 
then, a harmless little mystery got up to please a 
few idlers like myself? Perhaps you’d really rather 
I left the question alone.” 

“ I should be greatly obliged.” 

“ Very good.” The old gossip, whose favourite 
occupation in life was to sit at a window of his house 
in Piccadilly studying the passers-by, and hearing 
scandal about them from two cronies who sat by him, 
nodded reassuringly to his young companion, and 
bent all the powers of his brain to speculating where 
he could find out the truth about Geoffrey’s fortune. 
No old-maids’ tea-party could have been more filled 
with joy at this chance of finding out something which 
was not meant to be found out. 

Being quite aware of the other’s thoughts, Mr. 
Stewart left the house in a very nervous frame of 
mind. It was a pity, he thought, that a man who is 
tempted to commit a sin cannot collect a little informa- 
tion beforehand about the result of his wrong-doing. 
Why was it so absurdly impossible to calculate the 


232 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


pleasure and vexation which would follow a certain 
act, and strike a balance justly and soberly, and resist 
the temptation or succumb to it, according to which 
way the balance inclined? Who would have believed 
that a man could get so little fun and so much trouble 
out of a million pounds, however dishonestly come 
by? To reason the matter out, what on earth was 
he really afraid of? If his story was made public 
property to-morrow he could still look a policeman 
in the face with perfect equanimity ; no one could beat 
him, starve him, or imprison him. He would make 
a joke of the transaction and lead the laughter; St. 
Ives might be vexed, and a few other friends would 
cut him, but the St. Ives family and set were not the 
only people in London. His spirits, however, would 
not respond to these encouraging words ; as fast as 
his lips formed such arguments his mind answered 
them. The philosopher who remarked that “ stone 
walls do not a prison make ” stated a double truth ; 
the man who is shut up inside the four walls need not 
feel himself in prison, and a man may be sent to 
prison, for all practical purposes, without being put 
inside the walls. Imprisonment for debt has not been 
abolished ; the debtors merely go to Ostend, Boulogne, 
or seaside villages in Brittany instead of to the Fleet ; 
men go to prison for forgery either at Portland or 
in the Argentine Republic; they lie hidden, silent, 
forgotten, in one place or other, it does not much 
matter where ; they are alive, but buried for an indefi- 
nite number of years ; “ their love and their hatred and 
their envy is now perished, neither have they any more 
a portion forever in anything that is done under the 
sun.” Mankind can pay the full price for sinning and 
being found out without the intervention of a magis- 
trate and a treadmill. Geoffrey Stewart had seen 


A FOOL’S YEAR 233 

men “ go under/' and he did not want to try the 
experience. 

The ugly prospect hung in his mind all day. He 
roamed about St. James’s Park, where the autumn 
leaves were tumbling down and tossing about in yellow 
and black and crimson masses. Late autumn flowers 
were dying in the flower-beds ; the water-fowl swam 
rapidly to and fro, coming out now and then to see 
if, perchance, the grass had once more become sun- 
warmed and scented, and returning sadly to the water 
when only the dead, scentless leaves flew coldly past 
them, and the children were in eclipse in their first 
winter clothed. The Houses of Parliament and the 
buildings of Whitehall stood up clear and cold ; above 
the trees Union Jacks floated out redly over the 
Metropole and Victoria Hotels and Whitehall Court, 
reminding Geoffrey, with a shudder, of bunches of holly- 
berries and Christmas. He went back to his club and 
dined by himself, and sat smoking cigarettes, till at 
last a brilliant idea occurred to him. He would go 
to Cornwall House and see if St. Ives could give 
him any of the old work to do during the next 
few days. 

There was a great pressure of work at the Indian 
Secretary’s house, and Geoffrey was welcomed with 
effusion. He was soon deep in the correspondence 
of an offended Maharajah who was threatening to 
come over to England and lay certain grievances before 
Her Majesty the Queen in person; and work pro- 
ceeded in stern silence till two in the morning. Then 
the other secretaries struck, one of them asserting 
that he had addressed a learned letter about the Afghan 
Boundary Commission to a correspondent who had 
been demanding Lord St. Ives’s views about a recent 
Protestant demonstration in Cornwall, the other 


234 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


stating that twice within the last half hour he had 
gone to sleep with his head on an unblotted letter 
and been obliged to rewrite it. They went to bed, 
promising that they might possibly reappear some 
time in the following afternoon, and St. Ives and 
Geoffrey were left alone. 

Geoffrey brewed a great tumbler of egg and milk 
and brandy and handed it to St. Ives, who took it 
with a nod and a smile. “ I have never learned to 
break the egg successfully myself,'’ he said at last ; 
“ there’s always a bit of shell left in the tumbler, and 
I always eat it.” 

There was silence between the two* men for three 
or four minutes; the marquis was apparently a little 
nervous about something, for he looked furtively at 
Geoffrey once or twice, as though he were speculating 
what sort of mood the youngster was in, and whether 
it would be safe to say something unpleasant. At last 
Geoffrey broke the silence. 

“ I was with the Duke of Dorset this morning. He 
won’t hear of the separation. He will withdraw every 
penny of Merivale’s allowance if it takes place.” 

“ Of course. I rather agree with him. Well, it 
mustn’t take place, and you must tell Helen so as 
firmly as possible. Say that neither the duke nor I 
will consider the thing for a moment, and that they 
must look for no help from either of us if they in- 
sist on separating. I saw him this afternoon, by the 
way.” 

The duke? You went to see him?” 

“ No, he came to the India Office ; said he had 
come to tell me a funny story about Gladstone. But 
he hadn’t come to tell me a story about anybody, and 
the story which he did tell about Gladstone wasn’t at 
all funny. He had come there to ask me questions.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


235 


Stewart rose abruptly from his chair and went to 
the table to get himself another brandy and soda. 
St. Ives watched him under his eyes, but when the 
young man came back the marquis turned half-round 
in his arm-chair so that he might watch him no more. 
Then he went on quietly : 

“ The questions were about you.’' 

Geoffrey laughed. “ Most of my visit to him this 
morning was spent in refusing to answer questions 
about my money. I expect I have excited his curi- 
osity to a point where it’s simply unendurable. I’m 
sorry I made him come in and bore you like that.” 

People are curious. He’s not the only man who’s 
asked me the same question.” 

“ Really, I’m awfully sorry. Can’t you tell them 
either to mind their own business or, if they must 
mind mine, to come to me about it ? ” 

“Yes, I could tell them that, but — look here, old 
boy, no one ever accused me of meddling overmuch 
in my neighbour’s affairs; but you’ll have to let me 
do it now. What’s the mystery about this money? 
I wish you would give me a clew to it.” 

“ I can’t. I’m most awfully sorry, but I’m pledged 
to absolute silence. I can’t say a word to anybody.” 

“That’s awkward, you know.” St. Ives looked very 
grave, and Geoffrey, glancing at his half-averted face, 
felt quite sick with dread of what was coming ; “ that’s 
an extremely awkward position to put me into. I 
have been your guardian, and am still, to some extent, 
your sponsor in our world. It isn’t a very large or 
very important world, but for what it’s worth I have 
guaranteed your position in it. I don’t think — you 
must forgive my speaking very plainly — I don’t think 
you ought to treat me like this in any case; but the 
position you’ve put me into now is a very difficult 


236 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


one. I am afraid I must say more than that. The 
position is not only difficult but — impossible.’"’ 

Hesitating for a moment over the last word, St. 
Ives brought it out at last with a slowness and reluct- 
ance, which told Geoffrey all that it meant. Never- 
theless he professed to misunderstand it. 

“ I should have thought it was not only possible, 
but easier than any other course, just to send on all 
inquirers to me. I don’t mind telling anybody in the 
world to mind his own business.” 

The marquis shuffled his body about a trifle impa- 
tiently and began to smoke more quickly. “ I’m afraid 
people don’t regard your answer and mine as of exactly 
the same social importance. When they ask where 
this money has come from, and I say, as I have said 
hitherto : ‘ It’s no concern of yours, but everything’s 
all right,’ they do me the honour of departing satisfied ; 
when you say the same thing, and nobody supports 
you in saying it — well, it remains to be seen what the 
world will do then.” 

“ And you mean that you cannot support me any 
more?” asked the other in a very low voice. 

St. Ives shrugged his shoulders and spoke also in 
a nervous strained voice. Money is made, not 
born,” he said. “ It comes to people in various ways, 
but those ways are few and are well known. I know 
you very well, and should not be so intensely silly as 
to suppose for a moment that the money had not 
come to you perfectly honestly. But the rest of man- 
kind does not know you very well, and is on the 
whole very silly, and is fond of supposing a great 
deal about their neighbours — the wickeder the better. 
Now, do you see, my position is this. I can guarantee 
your fortune to be all square without telling the story 
of its origin, and the world will be polite enough, I 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


237 


expect, to accept my guarantee. At any rate, if it 
doesn’t I can take care of myself, and should know 
how to resent any such refusal. But for nobody in 
the world would I guarantee a story which I did not 
even know.” 

“ And you mean,” said the other, almost in a 
whisper, “ that you cannot go on defending me in 
this matter without hearing my story ? ” 

St. Ives nodded. “ I’m afraid I mean that.” 

“ What must you say to inquirers ? ” 

“ I must tell them,” said the marquis, suddenly 
looking straight at Geoffrey, “ that I know nothing 
about your money, and do not like my ignorance, and 
cannot possibly say that everything is all right, and 
sincerely wish that I could say it.” 

There was a prolonged silence, and at last Geoffrey 
rose unsteadily from his seat. I must go home,” 
he said; '' I must go away and — and think. You will 
not see me, I expect, for a few days, and then I’ll 
tell you all that I can.” 

St. Ives said good-bye very gravely, and Geoffrey 
departed. 


16 


CHAPTER XX 


Stewart went up to Scotland that night and 
arrived at Hopper’s house next day. Cyrus Hopper 
was great on a Scotch moor; he shot seriously and 
steadily, and conducted the whole business with all 
the luxuries of a first-class Paris hotel inside the house, 
and all the newest inventions outside. He had been 
round half a dozen other moors, and everything which 
he saw there he ordered two of for his own moor. 
Every room of the house was full, and the whole 
place had a general air of containing too much of 
everything; there were too many guests, too many 
guns, too much gambling, too much amusement, too 
much to eat, and too much to drink. Even the ghosts 
seemed to have caught the prevailing evil, for there 
were too many of them to be interesting, and they 
paid too many visits. 

Mr. Hopper’s daughters were not included in his 
house-party just now; they were staying at a house 
in the neighbourhood, and one or two people who 
had heard them spoken of as Hopper’s nieces were a 
trifle surprised at the change in their relationship, and 
cross-examined them so closely about their father that 
the girls grew annoyed. They had met very few of 
his friends, however, and they had not been his 
nieces ” for more than a few weeks. They came 
over to lunch at their father’s house on the day of 
Geoffrey’s arrival, and wondered at his behaviour to 
238 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


239 


them. He would scarcely speak to or look at either 
of them ; only when they were standing at some dis- 
tance from him in the garden, Frances saw his eyes 
fixed on her elder sister with a look of fear and longing 
which she tried hard to understand, without success. 
If he wished to talk to her, to get lost with her in 
woods or gardens, she was quite willing to help him, 
and Patricia herself was equally ready. But it was 
too evident that Mr. Stewart wanted nothing of the 
sort, and the two girls drove away, looking at one 
another wonderingly. They could only suppose that 
he was afraid to speak to anybody in the middle of 
a watching and gossiping crowd of that kind. Yet 
he had made no suggestion for meeting elsewhere. 
There were a few tears when the girls reached their 
home, and Patricia’s dinner companion found her 
inclined to be quarrelsome. 

But Stewart had come down here for other pur- 
poses ; not exactly without reference to Patricia, but 
not consistent with making love to her. He went out 
for a walk with Hopper, after tea, the day being 
Sunday, and silence and rest lying over lake and 
moor. The two men climbed on to a small plateau 
overlooking Loch Tay, and stood there for a moment 
gazing in silence across the islands and woods. It 
was growing dark, and a rain-mist was creeping over 
the water ; the ground was wet, and trees were waving 
bare boughs under a cold November wind. 

'' It is late to be staying on here,” said the younger 
man with a shudder. “ What is keeping you here ? ” 

“ My guests’ pleasure,” said the other, with a very 
grand air. “ Some of them are good enough to pro- 
pose staying on till the end of this month, and I am 
at their service.” 

“ Certainly they’d be fools to go,” said the other 


240 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


with a short laugh, “ as it isn’t likely they would find 
better quarters anywhere in this world. Some of them 
will stay as long as you keep them. Some chaps of 
that sort would stay with the devil for eternity, if they 
got fed and cosseted like that.” 

“ You think they regard me as an equally unpleas- 
ant host to put up with, and requiring a very good chef 
and a very large ‘ bag ’ to make me tolerable ? ” asked 
Hopper, with a self-satisfied laugh. 

“ I was wondering,” said the other quietly, “ how 
many of your present house-party would stay on if 
you and I made a confession about a certain transac- 
tion in which we went shares last May. A majority 
of them, I expect.” 

“ A consideration of that subject does not seem 
to be necessary, and is both unsafe and vexatious. 
I don’t repent of the transaction ; neither, I suppose, 
do you, so shall we drop the discussion? I should 
prefer it.” 

But I am not at all sure that I do not repent 
of the transaction, and I am not at all sure that a 
consideration of the subject is not necessary, though 
I grant you that it is both unsafe and vexatious.” 

“ Is that what you’ve come down here about?” 

“ Yes. I’ve spent the beastliest six months I ever 
spent in my life, and I’m sick of it.” 

“ I see. So you mean to repay me all that you’ve 
spent of the million, and to hand me back the balance 
as well?” 

“ You know I can’t do that,” said Geoffrey quietly; 
but I want to know if you will take a lease of Ince 
Weston so as to get some advantage for yourself out 
of the improvements there, and take over that house 
in Park Street, and give me a little time to repay 
you what I’ve spent, and take back the balance.” 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


241 


The American laughed a loud and genuine laugh. 
“ That’s about the coolest thing I’ve ever heard, and 
I’ve listened to some d — d cheeky remarks in my life 
too. Now I won’t accuse you of trying to blackmail 
me, because, although that suggestion sounds very 
like an attempt to get more money out of me, I believe, 
on the whole, you’re more of a fool than a knave. 
But I’ll answer your proposition in three words: Go 
to hell. Clear out of my house at once — you can 
walk to the station from here now, unless you’ll give 
me your word of honour not to speak a word to one 
of my guests to-night — and go back to London and 
tell any one anything you please. Talk as hard as 
you like till the end of the month. Then I’ll come to 
town and take my innings. When those begin I should 
advise you for your own comfort to come down here 
or to go even farther off. That’s my answer to your 
threat of blabbing. Now will you give me that promise 
about to-night, or will you not ? ” 

“ I will say nothing to any of your guests now, 
but I will leave to-night. You don’t care to consider 
that proposition about Ince Weston? I don’t see how 
I’m going to repay you what I have spent of the 
million, if you can’t.” 

“ I’ve considered it and answered it ; not very 
adequately, I daresay, but then its impudence is so 
colossal that I can’t find the right words for an answer 
at such short notice.” 

“ Can you suggest any other way for me to repav 
you?” 

‘‘ No, I can’t. You intend, apparently, to break 
the promise which you gave me on your word of 
honour, and to swindle me out of a lot of money 
besides. I can do nothing to stop you ; the only sug- 
gestion I can make is that you should change your 


242 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


mind and try to behave like a gentleman. But I’m 
not going to argue about it. Go and do as you please, 
and be d— d.” 

Hopper knew this man rather well, and was mow 
returning long-premeditated answers in a long-foreseen 
crisis. His hope of salvation lay in the impasse to 
which Geoffrey had brought himself by spending a 
large portion of the money. This mountain of diffi- 
culty which stood in the way of repentance simply 
could not be overcome, and Stewart could not possibly 
cry off his bargain with any honesty till it had been 
overcome. Hopper knew the weak point in Geoffrey’s 
character well enough to understand that the compact 
was fairly safe; the youngster could work well and 
almost brilliantly under another man’s direction, but 
his initiative power was weak, and he would climb 
no mountain until some one showed him the way. 
Furthermore, when his path was barred, any reason- 
ably strong argument would induce him to remain 
stationary unless and until the argument was answered. 
On this occasion there was an immense obstacle in 
the path of righteousness, and there was some slight 
notion of honour to induce Geoffrey to remain in 
his present position. Mr. Hopper was perfectly aware 
that Geoffrey could see all this without any one troub- 
ling to point it out to him, so he refrained from all 
argument, and contented himself with reciting the 
facts of the case. 

He did very well for his own case, and Stewart 
went back to London in a torture of doubt. His 
secret would be found out ; of that he was quite certain 
now; and the only question in his mind was whether 
he should flout all his former friends, live without them 
and keep his money, or surrender the money and beg 
the forgiveness of his friends. But the joyless wrong- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


243 


doing of the past six months had left him full of doubt 
about the niceties of honesty, and of hesitation about 
the pleasure or pain to be derived from right and 
wrong actions. Formerly he had known no such 
hesitation and no such doubt, but the dull idleness 
of the past few months had had its effect on his char- 
acter. A prolonged discontent with life does not alter 
the facts of life, but it alters one’s self. Was it worth 
while, Geoffrey kept saying to himself, to make restitu- 
tion and accept his share of retribution ? He had gone 
down to Scotland firmly resolved to tell Hopper that 
the contract was over ; that he must accept some terms 
for the return of his money and make up his mind to 
exposure ; he was coming back to London thoroughly 
frightened by Hopper’s answer. 

He went round to Park Street the afternoon after 
his return, with the vague hope that in listening to 
long stories of Helen’s troubles he should forget his 
own. She was in London, as she always was on the 
slightest pretext. The carriage was at the door and 
my lady was apparently going out for a drive. She 
came downstairs, in fact, holding Angela by the hand, 
as Geoffrey stood in the hall. 

“ I am going out on quite a sad errand,” she said, 
in a tone which indicated that the sadness of the errand 
had not very seriously affected her spirits. “ Angela 
has just had a letter from Dolly Ferrars, from New- 
market, to say that poor Mr. Ross has been very ill. 
He left Newmarket two or three months ago, you 
know. They turned him out of his living; in theory 
he resigned, but, as you remember, practically they 
turned him out. I expect he hadn’t got much money 
when he left, and he is such an extraordinary per- 
son that nobody was likely to give him any mote 
work. So I expect he’s very badly off, and Angela 


244 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


and I are just going to see him. Will you come 
too?’’ 

'' Certainly I will come.” 

An address was given to the coachman in one of 
the smaller streets of Soho, and the three persons were 
driven there almost in silence. The house where they 
stopped was a fairly respectable one ; the landlady, who 
answered the door herself, took them into a ground- 
floor sitting-room which did not look by any means 
poverty-stricken. It appeared, however, that the room 
was her own, and she had only the worst account to 
give of her lodger on the top floor. She professed to 
like him greatly, though her voice did not sound very 
cordial, and she allowed that she had been seriously 
offended by him on two occasions. Just now he was 
in bed, having hurt an arm and foot seriously by inter- 
fering in a street fight; and he professed not to be 
hungry, except for an occasional piece of bread and 
butter, though the landlady had begun to suspect 
during the past twenty-four hours that he ate no food 
because he had no money to pay for it. Her suspicion 
had been confirmed, she said, this morning when, on 
paying in advance, as usual, for his week’s lodging, 
the gentleman had told her that he would be leaving 
next week. He had made no complaint of the room, 
and had once or twice said that it suited him, so it 
was her opinion that he was leaving because he could 
not pay another week’s rent. The gentleman, she 
could see at a glance, owing to her many years of 
experience, to which she would call upon her daughter 
to bear witness, was one of the kind who would starve 
before he would owe anybody a penny. One other 
piece of advice she had to give : if the lady and gentle- 
man and little lady wished to see her lodger they had 
better go upstairs and go in without asking leave. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


245 


because two gentlemen had come here a day or two 
ago and sent up their cards to Mr. Ross, and he had 
refused to see them. His room was at the top of the 
house, and they would know it among the four other 
rooms on that floor because the panels of the door 
did not quite meet, and there was an unusually large 
gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. 
His name was written on one of the panels, but the 
passage was too dark for trifles of that sort to be 
visible. 

Looking very frightened, Helen motioned to Geof- 
frey to lead the way upstairs, and followed him in 
silence with Angela stumbling after her. All signs of 
decency and respectability disappeared as the three 
moved upward, and when at last they reached the top 
landing and recognised the door by the landlady’s 
graphic and most accurate description of it, they 
stopped and looked at one another in dismay. The 
walls were streaming with moisture which had come 
through the roof ; the only streak of daylight came 
through a crack in a bricked-up window-frame, and 
the smell of the house was sickening. “We have 
come to a wrong address,” said Helen at last, nerv- 
ously ; “ Ross is a very ordinary name, and the person 
who told Dolly about our friend being here was 
making a mistake. But if there is some one in that 
room ill in bed, for Heaven’s sake go in to him, 
Geoffrey, and give him a sovereign, and beg him to 
come out of it. Tell him we’ll drive him to the nearest 
hospital if he can manage to walk downstairs; but at 
any price persuade him to come away.” 

Geoffrey knocked at the door, and in reply to a 
surprised invitation to come in, entered the room where 
Ross was lying in bed. Not much doubt was in his 
own mind that he would find the late chaplain of St. 


246 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Andrews, Newmarket, there, and he had prepared a 
smile of welcome; but he found some difficulty in 
keeping it on his face when he saw the half-starved, 
sick man before him. His first words of greeting 
had hardly been spoken before Helen and Angela, 
perceiving from his voice that he had found the right 
Ross, came into the room after him, and the parson’s 
face flushed in scarlet protest. But the small child, 
having found her friend, meant to stand no nonsense 
in keeping him, and sat down in her usual quiet, 
decided fashion with an arm round him and a stern 
question as to what he meant by not writing to her. 

“ I hardly expected to stay here long, little Angela, 
and I hardly knew if you could come up so many stairs. 
And I knew you weren’t in London. Once or twice 
I walked up Park Street to see, and the nursery blind 
was down.” 

“ We’ve been back in London nearly a month, and 
you might have told me as well as telling Dolly. It 
is all nonsense about the stairs.” 

“ But indeed I didn’t tell Dolly ! ” The man looked 
at the grave gray eyes into which tears were coming, 
and held tight the two small, trembling hands ; it had 
never occurred to him that he could hurt the child 
like this by disappearing from her life, or he would 
have swallowed his pride and risked an accusation of 
writing begging letters, and written to tell her where 
he was. “ I didn’t tell Dolly, and I can’t imagine how 
she found out. Now you can write and tell her that 
you’ve seen me, and that when my wrist and foot are 
better I’m coming round to Park Street to have tea 
with you. We will have tea in the nursery, and talk 
about everything we’ve done since last June.” 

“ But, Mr. Ross, I mean to have an explanation 
too.” Lady Helen came forward with glances of open 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


247 


pity round the bare room. “ What do you mean by 
coming to live here when you know how gladly my 
father or I would have taken you in ? ” 

“ I live where my means allow me,” said the parson, 
flushing angrily, and the small child glanced up at her 
mother in annoyance at her want of tact. Such a 
question had put an end, once for all, to any chance 
of inducing Ross to come and stay with them. “ I 
told your father,” went on the man, turning back to 
Angela, “ when he came to see me here last week, 
that I wanted nothing at all, and was merely spending 
the weeks here in a very ordinary way, looking out 
for something else to do.” 

“ My husband has been here ? ” asked Helen 
sharply. 

“ Yes, he was here for some time. He told me ” 
— Ross glanced meaningly from Helen to Geoffrey 
and back again — “ many things which made me very 
unhappy to hear. I have to thank you in a way for 
coming, because I was anxious to see both of you. 
May Angela wait somewhere while we talk for a few 
minutes, and then come back to me ? That is to say,” 
added the parson grimly, “ if she is allowed to come 
back. The next room is empty, and I have a book 
or two here which she could read.” 

The child glanced from one to another of her three 
companions, and then allowed Geoffrey to take her 
away. She took a comprehensive survey of everything 
and everybody at the door; her mother, in her blue 
velvet dress and thick furs, had turned her delicately 
beautiful face with a slightly vexed look to Ross’s 
gaunt, white face ; her figure seemed to the child a 
statue of luxury and vanity placed here in almost 
theatrical contrast to the fearful reality of the other 
life. For a second she hated her mother. Then she 


248 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


caught sight of a slight broadening smile on Geoffrey 
Stewart’s face, and with a passionate exclamation of 
anger she snatched her hand out of his and ran out 
by herself into the passage. Partly with the memory 
of one or two scenes in Ross’s garden, and partly by 
the insight which reveals anything about a person 
whom she loves to a child of this age, Angela saw 
what Ross was going to do, and foresaw the proba- 
bility of her not being allowed to come back to him. 
She looked up at Stewart with fury in her eyes and 
stammered out : “ Mother is going to be rude to him. 
If you and mother are rude to him, I’ll — I’ll stay with 
him, and I’ll never come near either of you again.” 

Geoffrey glanced at her in idle amusement, told 
her with a laugh not to alarm herself, and went back 
into Ross’s room, where the man was lying in silence, 
waiting for him to join them. He shut the door, and 
Ross, watching his face, perceived that Mr. Stewart 
was anticipating half an hour of boredom. 

“ All these preparations are very alarming,” said 
Geoffrey lightly ; “ you have frightened the small 
person out of her wits, and I am not at all sure that 
Helen and I are not equally scared. Now what’s it 
all about ? ” 

“ It has sometimes seemed to me a pity,” said 
Ross, eyeing him with disfavour, that a man can 
so rarely run riot among all the laws of religion and 
morality without making some one else do the same. 
One is not always entirely sorry when a certain person 
makes up his or her mind to go to hell and goes 
there; it is the proper place for certain people, and 
their repentance and attempts to come back to a life 
of decency are simply repulsive. But I am alwavs 
sorry for the companion whom they insist on taking 
with them. Since you’ve come into this fortune, Mr. 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


249 


Stewart, you have apparently decided to go to the 
bad. Can’t you make up your mind to go alone ? ” 

“ I perceive,” said Geoffrey, “ that Dudley Meri- 
vale has been here, and talking in his usual amiable 
fashion about me. His imagination is the only part 
of him which, if Helen will forgive me for speaking 
so rudely, has not been totally destroyed by drinking. 
It is going very strong just now.” 

“ I have watched you and Lady Helen for some 
time past now,” said the other, looking steadily at 
the younger man, so that he began to flinch and fidget 
uncomfortably, “ and I have heard a score of people 
talking about you, and Mr. Merivale’s talk the other 
day merely served to show me that he knew all that 
I and the rest of the world know. Once before I 
spoke plainly to Lady Helen, and her answer was a 
threat to take away a little friend of mine whom I 
love better than any one in the world. I was weak 
and gave way before the threat, but this time I am 
going to do my duty at any cost. You two are recog- 
nised by the world as Iqvers, and I believe the world’s 
story because I have good reason to believe it. Can 
either of you swear to me that what I am told is a lie ? ” 

A rude answer was on Stewart’s lips, but the woman 
checked it with a motion of her hand. “ You use very 
vague words,” she said ; “ I am very fond of Geoffrey, 
as he is of me. In that sense we are lovers, and 
certainly in no other.” 

“ I do not believe you. Lady Helen,” said Ross, 
with his eyes on the woman’s face. “ I believe that 
what I am told is true, and I say it is a shame. Before 
God and man it is a shame. You were friends when 
you were children ; Lord St. Ives has done everything 
in the world which one man could do for another to 
make Mr. Stewart’s life happy, and he has left you 


250 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


and Mr. Stewart together for years past, in absolute 
confidence that you are friends. You are deceiving 
him and Mr. Merivale, and making up a story of shame 
which your children must hear in a few years ; Mr. 
Stewart is abusing an old friendship with you, deceiving 
Mr. Merivale, and shamefully abusing Lord St. Ives’s 
confidence. It is not a pretty story which the world 
tells of you, and which I, for one, believe. It is a 
shameful story. All the world is the worse for such 
people as yourselves living. I think nothing of any- 
thing else. Some one came in and told me yesterday 
of a rumour that Mr. Stewart’s money had come to 
him by dishonesty, and I said to him what I say 
now to you, that the dishonesty which merely robs 
a man of a million pounds is nothing, in my mind, 
compared to this other sin. Will either of you 
answer me ? ” 

Geoffrey had become so sick and dazed with fear 
at the reference to the money that he could only 
stare at Ross in white-faced amazement. Helen was 
cowering away towards the window, and would not 
reply. The man looked at them both for a few 
moments longer and then pointed to the door. 

“You must go,” he said; “I will not have such 
offenders in my room. I will not speak to them, or 
recognise them as friends of mine. If you wish to 
take your child. Lady Helen, and refuse her leave to 
see me again, you must do so. Repent and leave one 
another; I pray you, for God’s sake, repent before 
his most terrible punishments overtake you.” 

Scared and speechless the two left the room. 


CHAPTER XXI 


They drove home in complete silence, and Angela 
sat on the back seat glaring angrily at both of them. 
No one spoke a word till Park Street was reached, 
when Geoffrey said coldly : “ If you will allow me, I will 
come upstairs for a few minutes. I should like to 
speak to you.” The woman nodded and went to her 
sitting-room, where Stewart followed. 

“ I should like to stop this sort of thing at once,” 
he began, “ and so I suppose would you.” 

“ The man is mad. He has been delirious, I should 
think, and isn’t nearly sane yet. We can’t take any 
notice of raving nonsense like that. The simple fact 
was, as you easily see, that Dudley had been telling 
him stories about me, and his brain is too weak to 
understand what Dudley’s word is worth.” 

The simple fact is that he heard gossip about 
us before he left Newmarket, and has heard more 
since he has been in London, and that when your 
husband saw him he merely helped to confirm all 
this gossip. The man’s behaviour was outrageous, 
and I daresay he isn’t quite sane ; but that doesn’t alter 
the fact that we are getting ourselves talked about. 
I have been interfering in your affairs, and you’ve 
been talking about my help, and Merivale has been 
talking about it. It would be very odd if the rest 
of mankind hadn’t got something to say about it too. 
Now, Helen, my work for you is coming to an end, 

251 


252 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


simply because I can do no more, and all our meetings 
and private talk are coming to an end with it. You 
know you can’t have this separation; the duke won’t 
hear of it, your father won’t speak another word about 
it; and, even if I could urge it on them, which to be 
frank I sha’n’t, I couldn’t get it for you. You must 
settle down for the winter, be seen about once or 
twice with Merivale, and see him yourself as little as 
you can.” 

“ And this,” said the woman angrily, “ is all be- 
cause a half-mad parson takes up some of my 
husband’s slanders and has the audacity to repeat 
them!” 

“ It is for no reason of the kind. The man has 
merely reminded me, very rudely, of a fact which I 
ought to have known without any reminder, that the 
world talks nastily about such friendships as ours, and 
that its nasty remarks are followed in time by some 
very nasty treatment. If you found two or three 
people beginning to cut you, and your name being 
left out of garden-parties and house-parties where you 
wanted to go, you would be very angry, and would 
round on me and slate me, just as Ross has been 
slating the pair of us to-day.” 

“Your remarks are very proper; they’re also a 
little commonplace and decidedly dull.” The woman 
watched him curiously for a moment, and then asked 
suddenly : “ What was it that Ross said about your 
fortune; something about its having come to you in 
some odd way — a dishonest way, he said ? ” 

Stewart flushed a little and walked away to the 
window, scowling and muttering. 

“ So that remark is the real secret of your taking 
him so seriously,” went on Helen, trying to recall 
Ross’s exact words, as she saw what an effective weapon 


A FOOL’S YEAR 253 

they formed. “Where did the money come, from? 
What does Ross object to in its origin?’’ 

“ I haven’t the vaguest idea what he meant. Cer- 
tainly he had been hearing a good deal of scandal 
about us, and this particular bit doesn’t happen to be 
true. At least I suppose not. He didn’t go into 
details. Now, may we consider that a truce has been 
arranged between you and Merivale for the winter, 
so that I may disappear from the scene ? ” 

“ The duke is going to make us both stay at Hales 
at the end of this week for the Derby races,” said 
Helen, speaking very absently ; “ I shall have to go, 
and so will Dudley, because the horrid old man begins 
to make himself offensive about money if I kick at 
any of his arrangements. But, Geoffrey ” — she hesi- 
tated a long time, apparently trying to remember 
something — “ where did that fortune come from ? It 
is very stupid of me, as I suppose you must have 
told me a hundred times, but I really quite forget. 
Who left it to you ? ” 

“ I haven’t told you a hundred times, so you haven’t 
forgotten. Nobody knows ; it is a secret, and Fm not 
at liberty to tell anybody just yet.” 

“ Oh, then there is something queer about it ! But 
that’s rather a serious business, Geoffrey. I don’t 
wonder you want to stop Ross from talking.” 

Geoffrey looked at her in helpless rage, suddenly 
seeing the corner into which she had driven him. If 
one part of Ross’s denunciation was to receive such 
serious attention, why not all? If he was to notice 
the scandal about her, why might not she notice the 
scandal about him? A sudden, appalling certainty 
came to Geoffrey that his secret was going to be 
torn from him, and beside such a catastrophe nothing 
else seemed to matter. It was one thing to contem- 
17 


254 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


plate confession at one’s own chosen moment, and 
with power to confess as much as one pleased and to 
interlard every sentence with excuses ; and it was quite 
another thing to be found out and held up to public 
scorn, while the stammering denials and excuses are 
greeted with disbelieving derision. Again and again 
the young man repeated to himself that the secret was 
his own and Hopper’s, and that nothing except his 
own free will could make it public; his terror was 
vague and illogical, but it overwhelmed him. Oddly 
enough, his chief consolation at the present moment 
was the memory of Hopper’s angry address to him 
on Sunday evening; it brought a momentary reassur- 
ance of safety, reminding him first that the American 
was not likely to let slip any confession, and secondly 
that there was a gigantic difficulty in the way of his 
doing so himself. 

Helen had just begun a string of eager questions 
when a footman came in to announce some callers, 
and to ask if she was at home. She answered “ No,” 
but Geoffrey came forward, saying decisively and 
angrily, “ Yes, you are ; you are at home to every- 
body. We will finish this arrangement at the end of 
the week. You are going down to Hales, you say, 
and I am staying with the Cartwrights for the Derby 
races. I will come over to Hales and settle everything 
then. Anyhow, you are at home now ” ; and with 
intense vexation Mr. Stewart noticed that the footman 
accepted his decision without waiting for Helen to 
confirm it, and departed to bring the visitors up to 
the drawing-room. 

Stewart went to his club and wrote a note to Lord 
St. Ives, telling him that he was very sorry but was 
unable to give any information about his financial 
affairs for the next few weeks. He sat for some 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


255 


moments considering the words “ for the next few 
weeks.” If he left them in, would St. Ives give him 
a little more grace, or would he simply consider them 
a piece of hypocrisy? He decided at last to leave 
them, since they could at least make matters no worse 
for him, and might gain him a little breathing time. 
St. Ives’s condemnation would hurt him personally 
more than that of all the rest of the world put together, 
but he had no illusions about the fact that the rest 
of the world would follow St. Ives’s lead. Plenty of 
friends would be left to him ; a millionaire who is 
not actually in prison can command plenty of friends ; 
but when the moment came for final decision, should 
he choose St. Ives and honesty, or the other friends 
and dishonour? His mood varied from hour to hour. 
He met an acquaintance fresh from Cornwall House, 
full of the doings of its set, full of political gossip, 
candidates for a vacant bishopric, details of a diplo- 
matic muddle ; and he longed to be in the thick of 
such life again. Then he dined well, and felt sure 
that everything would come right without any inter- 
vention of his, or any trouble or scandal. Then he 
went to bed, and lay awake seeing one disaster after 
another happening to him, one unlucky word firing a 
train which ended in complete exposure, so that even 
the least scrupulous of social acquaintances began to 
look askance at him. Then he got up and took the 
early morning train to Paris, forbidding any letters to 
be sent after him, or his address to be given to 
anybody. 

Fear of this kind grows fast. When Mr. Stewart 
came back to London on Wednesday morning he 
looked nervously up and down the platform of Victoria 
Station, half-expecting to find two policemen waiting 
to arrest him, and he entered his house staring at the 


256 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


servants and convinced that they were looking at him 
with some odd meaning in their glances. It was only 
after a moment or two of hesitation that he ventured 
to hail and overtake an acquaintance in Park Lane, 
and when the man looked round without a smile, 
Stewart felt inclined to shrink speechless away. He 
fought angrily against the feeling, and when he looked 
it in the face it vanished. But when he was not arguing 
the matter out to himself calmly and dispassionately, 
the fear came back and filled every hour with torture. 

A big party was staying with Sir Charles Cart- 
wright for the Derby races, and when one member of 
it after another greeted him with their usual cordial 
pleasure, one of his numerous reactions took place 
and his spirits rose to their highest point. Dudley 
Merivale drove over on Wednesday afternoon and 
stayed to dinner, and Sir Charles and one or two 
guests, who had seen his appearance with some alarm, 
were relieved to find that the two men met without 
any unpleasantness, and seemed to become rather 
friendly as the day went on. At dinner-time and 
during the evening they were both in such uproarious 
spirits that the others merely sat and listened and 
laughed ; and people who remembered said afterward 
that the two were “ fey ” with coming disaster. Stewart 
and one or two others were invited to dine at Hales 
on the following evening, and accepted, and Merivale 
drove away firing off stories till the last moment. He 
held out his hand to Geoffrey as he said good-bye, 
and the two men looked into one another’s eyes a 
little puzzled by what each saw there. It must be 
years, they thought, since they had shaken hands or 
passed an evening like this talking to one another 
like friends. Mr. Stewart spared a few thoughts of 
pity for Merivale, who was going back to a house 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


257 


full of relations, each one of whom disliked him more 
than the other. He was a weak, idle chap, said Mr. 
Stewart to himself, but there was nothing incurably 
vicious about him ; the more Merivale showed of his 
character, the more certain Geof¥rey felt that a blunder 
had been made about the incident at Felixstowe. Some 
one ought to take him in hand and reform him; it 
was Helen’s business ; he would tell her so to-morrow. 

“ Do you know,” asked Cartwright when they had 
reassembled in the smoking-room, “ that young Meri- 
vale has taken to riding, and is soon going to be a 
first-class rider? He made his first appearance at 
Liverpool last March, and I saw him in the saddle 
once or twice at Sandown Park and Manchester and 
Doncaster. I hear he’s going to ride to-morrow. 
Jim Seton told me that the youngster had asked for 
the mount on Elstroom, and he had promised it 
to him.” 

“ Some one told me about it,” said Geoffrey indif- 
ferently, and I thought it a new and useful occupation 
for him. But, to say truth, last time I heard of one 
of his new occupations and thought it rather a good 
one, I got a shock very shortly afterward. I hope 
this isn’t going to turn out wrong too. No one can 
deny that he wants something to do. What is his 
line — steeple-chasing or flat racing?” 

“ He does both,” was the answer ; “ but naturally 
he’s best at the jumping business. He’s to have the 
mount on Lightship again at Warwick, so you may 
see him in both departments in the course of the next 
few days.” 

“ I’m sure I hope it amuses him,” said Geoffrey, 
and I hope still more that it will provide him during 
the winter with some occupation which will keep him 
a long way from London.” 


258 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Derby race-course was crowded on the following 
afternoon, and the ill-constructed course provided some 
exciting finishes. Not the least exciting was the race 
in which Mr. Seton’s two-year-old Elstroom won a 
Nursery handicap, owing, in great part, to the brilliant 
riding of Mr. Dudley Merivale, who was loudly cheered 
by the County Stand as he landed his fractious young 
mount first in a close finish. Geoffrey backed the 
winner at outside odds for a joke, and was not less 
pleased or amused because, in addition to seeing a 
good race, and rather liking the successful jockey, he 
had won two hundred pounds. Such circumstances 
consolidate friendship, and Stewart offered his warmest 
congratulations to the winner. “ Thanks, awfully,” 
said Merivale languidly ; “ and, look here, you back 
Goldfinch for the cup to-morrow. Seton told me yes- 
terday that this little creature might win, but that 
Goldfinch was a stone-blind certainty for the cup. You 
can get a hundred to six about him now ; go and lump 
on all your winnings. Jim doesn’t bet, you know, and 
doesn’t mind that kind of thing.” 

A sudden fit of gambling fever came over Stewart, 
though underlying the insanity of the fever was a 
certain very sane and definite notion that it might be 
well to make hay while the sun shone. He went to 
a bookmaker and asked the price of Goldfinch for 
to-morrow’s race. 

A hundred to seven ? ” he repeated. Will you 
give me 14,000 to 1,000? Well,” in reply to a most 
emphatic negative, “ 12,000 to 1,000 to win, and 3,000 
to 1,000 for a place? ” 

The man muttered a surly affirmative and took 
Geoffrey’s check for the bet, a large part of which 
he proceeded to lay off at remunerative odds. Then 
the numbers went up for the Markeaton Welter, and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


259 


a chorus of “ 5 to 2 the field ” rose from the ring, 
and Geoffrey put his two hundred pounds on the 
favourite, who won in a canter by two lengths. 

Mr. Stewart drove back to Cartwright’s house and 
dressed for dinner, and drove over to Hales in a state 
of excitement of which he was rather ashamed. He 
was put next to Helen at dinner, and talked racing 
jargon to her till she turned abruptly away and talked 
to her neighbour on the other side ; at which Geoffrey 
smiled amiably. 

‘‘ You seem to be out of your mind with excite- 
ment at having won half a crown,” said the woman, 
coming up to him afterward and speaking with icy 
contempt. ‘‘ Apparently it is no good talking to you 
to-night, and I suppose if you have begun that kind 
of thing you will carry it on for the rest of this 
meeting. Shall you be sane by Sunday morning, and 
if so can you come over here and see me? You are 
very anxious, I believe, to get rid of me and all my 
affairs, but before you do so there are one or two 
points which I want to ask you about.” 

Geoffrey laughed good-humouredly. Don’t get 
on stilts, Helen, and prance about all over the room, 
and dig the stilts into my wretched body. Of course 
I will come and see you on Sunday and give you any 
more advice you want. I wish you would be kinder 
to Merivale.” 

“Because he rode a winner and you backed it? 
You must allow that your advice, though doubtless 
valuable, is a little biased by admiration for one of 
the parties in the dispute. Well, come on Sunday 
if you can, but don’t bother yourself about it if you 
can’t. I am quite used to being left alone to manage 
for myself.” 

Friday afternoon was an ideal autumn day, with 


26 o 


A FOOL'S YEAR 


a cold wind sweeping down the race-course and a white 
November sun flashing coldly on the well-dressed 
crowd in the County Stand, on the surging mass of 
keen Midland sportsmen in Tattersalls’ and the outer 
ring, and the gay-coloured jackets of the jockeys, as 
one procession of them after another cantered down 
to the starting-post. Eighteen runners appeared for 
the Derby cup, and in spite of Mr. Stewart’s large bet 
of the previous afternoon. Goldfinch was only fifth on 
the list of favourites. Tons of money went on the 
race, one of the heaviest betting races of the “ back- 
end,” and scarcely a horse went down to the post 
without a hundred admirers and almost as many back- 
ers to criticise his action. No less a person than the 
famous Jerry Cater was riding Goldfinch, who was one 
of the first off in a slow, straggling start, and came 
to the front at the end of half a mile, and stayed there 
throughout the next mile, and won with some ease. 
Stewart’s resolution had been so sudden and so entirely 
without reason that he could hardly believe himself 
to be a winner of fifteen thousand pounds, or of nearly 
sixteen thousand if he included what he had won 
the previous day. Only when some people came up 
to him with congratulations and laughing questions 
as to whether he had taken to gambling, and how long 
his fortune was warranted to last if he began on such 
a large scale, did he begin to realize that such win- 
nings were not an every-day affair, and that something 
unusual had happened to him. But it was not till he 
was in his own room that night that he suddenly real- 
ized one of the main advantages of his success. The 
sum which he had won was very nearly large enough 
to pay for the work which had already been done at 
Ince Weston. A feeling of wild elation came over 
him as he understood this, and a score of mad bets 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


261 


floated through his mind. What a pity that he had 
waited till the end of the season before attempting 
to make money in such an easy and obvious way ! 

On the following day he began to bet in the reckless 
manner which must lead to either immense winnings 
or immense losses. And in this case the winnings 
came so fast that by the end of the afternoon he had 
lost count of them. Calculating them up on Sat- 
urday night, he found to his amazement that they had 
reached nearly twenty-five thousand pounds. Surely 
this might mean salvation from Hopper ; and surely he 
could now repay Hopper his million intact — ! Well, 
not quite, apparently. Putting the expenditure on 
Ince Weston at a very moderate estimate, he must 
have spent nearly thirty thousand pounds. But what 
was that if a run of luck had begun for him, and six 
more days remained of the racing season! 

He went over to Hales on Sunday afternoon and 
was very grimly received by the host. “ What the 
devil do you mean by making bets of this description ? ” 
asked the duke angrily. “ What do you want with 
the money? And if you don’t want it, why do you 
behave like a mad plunger or a fellow trying to 
advertise a new stud-farm? I loathe that sort of 
thing more than anything in the world. The process 
is stale and stupid, the end is inevitable. In the nature 
of things you can’t go on much longer this season; 
and, considering that we shall all be bored to death 
with stories about your plunging feats, do you think 
you could be so good as to refrain from carrying it 
on into next season?” 

‘‘Has Geoffrey taken to betting?” asked Helen, 
coming into the room and putting a hand on the young 
man’s shoulder ; “ pray give him some good advice. 
Have you pictures handy of the ‘ Road to Ruin ’ ? 


262 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Have you any moral books in the library? Let us 
save him if we can/’ 

The duke went away muttering angrily, and Helen 
leaned against a bookcase studying Geoffrey closely. 
There was a glow in her eyes which Geoffrey knew 
well as a sign of danger, and her fingers were moving 
restlessly over any object near them ; for a moment 
they had moved up and down his arm and shoulder 
and he could feel the nervous excitement in them. 
He withdrew himself to some distance when the duke 
left the room, and asked : “ Have you made it up with 
Merivale yet ? ” 

‘‘ No.” The woman flashed out the word angrily, 
and then stood silent and breathing quickly. “We have 
had another quarrel. This is the last I ever mean to 
have with him. It is the last word I ever mean to 
speak to him, and I think you will find he is quite 
content that it should be so. I loathe him; I hate 
him ; you cannot understand that, and you put it 
calmly by as if such a feeling didn’t matter at all, or 
at least didn’t count for anything in this case. You 
are silly, Geoffrey. Money matters a great deal to 
me, but what matters much more is this simple fact, 
that I hate this man too much to spend another hour 
alone with him. You don’t know what such hatred 
means. You can’t understand the horror of being 
touched and spoken to by a person who is absolutely 
loathsome to you. You think me raving now; you 
think I am exaggerating and talking nonsense when 
I say that my life is a terror to me in this house, 
because I know that the duke wishes to see my hus- 
band and me together constantly, wishes him to be 
affectionate to me, and to talk to me as if he were 
interested in my affairs and I were interested in his. 
I am not exaggerating. I am not raving. I tell you 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


263 


that every moment of such a day and night is worse 
torture to me than any physical pain you could think 
of. I would far rather have a cobra round my neck 
than his arm. I would be kissed by any loathsome 
beast in the world rather than by him. If I had 
a weapon near me, sometimes, I would kill him 
with it.” 

There was no mistaking the reality of her rage. 
She was angry when she came into the room ; now 
she was shaking with fury. In his present kindly 
humour all Geoffrey’s feelings of pity for her came 
back to him, and he put a hand on her shoulder with 
a kindly “ Poor Helen ! ” The unexpected word of 
pity changed her anger to tears, and she leaned against 
the bookcase shaking with sobs. The man could not 
bear it, and consoled her with his arms round her, 
and such words of love and sympathy as he had 
resolved never to use to her again. But the pleasure 
and excitement of the last few days had demoralized 
him, and he had ceased to calculate the effect of his 
actions. A woman and an old friend was in trouble 
and needing his sympathy. His heart was too full of 
excited happiness to refuse it. 

It was all that Helen asked in the world. She had 
been genuinely frightened and horrified by the last 
four days spent with her husband, hatred of whom 
was just now the strongest feeling in her mind. So 
far as she had any affection for anybody, it was for 
Geoffrey. Her love and hatred were equally erratic 
and shallow; they came and went without cause, and 
were mostly the result of a spell of idleness. But at 
this moment both together were in fierce activity, and 
the woman was beside herself with the excitement of 
the two passions. She crept close to Geoffrey now, 
praying him to take her away, to take her and the 


264 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


children abroad, and let the world do and say its 
worst. Already they had been noticed and talked 
about; what did a few words more or less matter to 
them? All London, from the duke and his friends in 
their dining-room in Piccadilly, to Ross in his wretched 
lodging, might say what they pleased, and nothing 
could harm the two fugitives. Would he take her 
now, to-night, up to London, and let them go, early 
to-morrow, beyond her husband’s tortures and the 
world’s brutal criticism — ? Looking up at Geoffrey 
suddenly in the middle of her entreaties, Helen saw 
a look of irresolution on his face which astonished 
her for a moment into silence, and then made her 
redouble her prayers. In fact, her words had appealed 
to him in a way of which she knew nothing. To go 
away beyond accusing voices, to live in idleness out 
of sight and sound of an inevitable disgrace, to have 
no more haunting fear of whether this or that friend 
knows your shameful story or will ask a chance ques- 
tion which you cannot answer without revealing some 
of it — this was a temptation which Geoffrey had felt 
vaguely once or twice before. Now it was put be- 
fore him definitely by a person of whom he was still 
very fond, and whom he might take away from a life 
of dull misery, even while he was escaping himself — 
Helen was begging him to answer and he muttered 
something, he scarcely knew what, which must have 
been a suggestion of delay, for the woman answered 
eagerly : “ I can wait a few days ; I can bear even 
that man for a day or two longer if you will swear 
to save me at the end. Promise me to take me with 
you this week, the first day that you can leave London, 
and I will wait quite patiently.” 

But, Helen ” 

“You shall not say no. You shall not dare to 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


265 

refuse me now after having given me this little bit 
of hope.” 

“ Let us wait and decide ” 

“ You shall not wait,” she answered passionately. 
“ You shall give me your word now to take me abroad 
this week. You promise?” 

“ Yes, I promise.” 

Helen drew back from him a little and looked at 
him searchingly. Apparently she saw something 
which satisfied her, for she moved back again to her 
bookcase and leaned there white with excitement. The 
two stared at one another, beginning to understand 
what had taken place, and each wondering dizzily 
what the other would say or think next morning. 
Did Helen mean her prayer, or Geoffrey his answer? 
The latter had just begun some question when the 
door opened and two or three guests came into the 
room demanding partners for bridge. Only for one 
moment more before Geoffrey left could Helen come 
near to him and say, “ I go to London to-morrow, 
and am ready any day when you are.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


Who would have believed, said Geoffrey to him- 
self, as he went up to London on Sunday night, that 
in six short months a man who had not supposed 
himself to be unusually dishonest or peculiarly dis- 
honourable, could become involved in such a labyrinth 
of falsehood and crime as that in which he now found 
himself? He acted now on every impulse, good- 
natured, silly, or criminal, which came into his mind. 
He did nothing from morning till night, planned 
nothing, enjoyed nothing. Formerly he had been 
anxious about several small matters and pleased with 
scores of big ones ; now he was anxious day and night 
about one dreadful matter and was pleased with noth- 
ing. And to-day he had got a new terror in his mind 
as bad as the first. Before he reached London he 
took a great resolution ; he would not give either of 
these matters a single thought for the next week. He 
would neither see Helen nor write to her nor answer 
any of her letters ; he would not think about his fortune, 
or St. Ives’s threats, or speak to anybody on the sub- 
ject, or go near anybody who would ask him questions. 
The thing was getting intolerable, and at all costs he 
would have a week’s holiday. It was a curious illus- 
tration of the state of his mind that he should suppose 
such a thing to be possible, and think of nothing 
whatever except himself while planning it. 

He succeeded, however, in banishing disagreeable 
266 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


267 


thought during his drive from St. Pancras to Park 
Street, and there his holiday ended, A letter from 
St. Ives awaited him, and as he read its carefully 
worded sentences, full of affection and pain, but per- 
fectly resolute, his soul grew sick within him, and he 
saw that the alternatives which he had light-heartedly 
proposed to himself — flight or confession — were no 
desperate, far-off resorts between which he must 
decide in a vague and possible future. On the con- 
trary, he must choose one or the other to-morrow, 
and from his choice there would be no retreat. St. 
Ives wrote very sternly that he could not wait for 
“ a few weeks,” that he must have the information 
about the million pounds this week, or draw the most 
unfavourable conclusion from his young relative’s 
silence. He would keep Geoffrey’s secret if there was 
any valid reason for doing so, but he must demand 
to be told what had happened. If Geoffrey would 
not tell the story, he could no longer be received at 
Cornwall House, and St. Ives could not undertake to 
be silent about what had happened. It hurt him 
terribly, wrote the marquis, to hint at such a suspicion ; 
but the belief was growing in his mind that everything 
was not as it should be about the money. If it was 
all right, there was simply no conceivable reason for 
concealing the truth from a familiar and perfectly 
reliable friend like himself. 

It will ruin me,” said Geoffrey to himself ; “ it 
will simply ruin me. He can drive me out of London. 
If I am to keep the money, I had better go of my 
own accord.” 

The next letter which he took out was from 
Hopper, who said briefly that he wrote in case Stewart 
wished for any reason to know his movements ; he 
was staying near Leamington for the Warwick races 


268 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


till Wednesday, and would come up to London on 
Thursday morning. 

With the two letters in his hand, Geoffrey sat 
down and pondered his future. It looked black 
enough. Confession entailed some terrible conse- 
quences; St. Ives would insist on the money being 
given back, and would probably pay the deficit out 
of his own pocket, so that Stewart would be in his 
debt for years. Explanations would have to be given 
to friends of how the money had gone, and these might 
not be less embarrassing, though they might be less 
in number than the story of how it had come. There 
was no one to whom he could turn for advice ; only 
one man. Hopper, could be asked questions at all, 
and Geoffrey knew his answers beforehand. How- 
ever, he had to be dealt with, and to see him was 
at least to do something; it meant a journey down 
to Warwick and an afternoon’s racing, both of which 
would drown thought. He would go down to War- 
wick to-morrow. 

Cyrus Hopper raised his eyebrows and for a 
moment looked uncomfortable when he saw the 
youngster walk on to the race-course. 

“ Have you denounced me and brought me a 
check?’’ he asked in a light voice, but with internal 
qualms. Geoffrey might quite possibly have borrowed 
the money from St. Ives to make up the deficit. 

“ No, not yet. I wanted to have one more chat 
with you before I took the final step.” 

What an extraordinary person you are for talking 
things over ! Do you never do anything in your life 
without discussing it half a dozen times with every- 
body you know?” 

When the other fellow is going to be involved 
in the smash,” said Stewart with a grim glance at 


A FOOL’S YEAR 269 

his companion, “ it seems common decency to let 
him say a word or two first.” 

“ You’ve given me my chance of speaking, and 
I’ve simply told you to go and do as you please. 
What more have you got to say now? Do you want 
me to offer you more money or to beg for mercy? 
I shall do neither. What do you want to ask me, if 
it isn’t either of those ? ” 

“ Would you prefer to tell Lord St. Ives about it 
yourself? ” 

“No; why should I be such a fool? Shut up, 
now. Here comes Dudley Merivale. He’s riding 
Lightship in the steeple-chase this afternoon, and I’ve 
brought Table-Turner and Eothen and put up young 
Lawson and James on them, and I’ll lay you three to 
one on my two against him, wherever he finishes.” 

“ I’ll take you in fifties,” said Stewart briefly. 
“ Lightship’s a better horse than either of your two, 
and young Merivale’s a better cross-country rider than 
James, and very nearly as good as Lawson. If you’re 
specially keen on beating him, you’ve made a jolly 
bad deal, and in any case you’ve made a jolly bad bet.” 

The other laughed good-humouredly. A man in a 
rage amused him. Also, money could be made out 
of such a person. 

Merivale caught sight of Stewart at this moment 
and came up to him with outstretched hand, which the 
latter took shamefacedly. “ I sdy, old chap, have your 
little bit on this beast to-day,” said Lightship’s rider. 
“ That race at Derby just sharpened him up a bit, 
and he’s in first-class trim. Old Hopper’s after me, 
as usual, buying anything which he thinks likely to 
beat me, and bribing everybody, I daresay, to knock 
me into the ditch if they can. D — d cad and bore, a 
man like that is. But I’ll keep out of their way easily 
18 


270 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


enough. Jimmy says the little mare’s good enough 
to go to the front at once and stay there all the time. 
The others may catch me if they can. I say, have I 
told you what I’ve managed to do for old Ross ? ” 

“ For Ross?” 

“ Yes. Good old boy he is. I love him. Well, 
I caught the governor in a decent humour after dinner 
last night and told him all about Ross. He knows 
him a little bit from Newmarket times, and was quite 
decent about him ; also, he said that he was glad to 
see me taking some interest in respectable people, and 
a lot of rot of that sort. He does want me to turn 
into a country gentleman, with a stomach and a stud 
of hunters and weekly dinner-parties for the county, 
the governor does. However, the end of this business 
was that he promised to give Ross that Bentley living 
just near Hales, and he wrote to Ross this morning 
to offer it to him. By gad, fancy my setting up as a 
patron of livings and a pillar of the Church ! Hullo, 
by Jove, there’s the saddling-bell. Come and give me 
a leg up and your blessing. I’ve got a hundred each 
way on, and I believe I’ll pull it off.” 

Twelve horses turned out for the Leamington 
steeple-chase, and long before the start Geoffrey could 
see that orders had been given to take care of Light- 
ship. She was fretted incessantly on the way down 
to the post, and was made to take part in two false 
starts. Then she kicked out freely, and her young 
rider obtained a clear space for himself, so that at 
the actual start he got well off. As the mare could 
gallop fast and jump like a cat she was soon clear 
of the others, and came down to the water with a two- 
lengths’ lead. Geoffrey could never be quite sure of 
what happened here ; though, just before, he saw 
Lawson, James, and one other man, whom he could 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


271 


not distinguish at the moment, pick up their whips 
and send their horses at the water at reckless speed. 
Perhaps Merivale grew suddenly nervous, perhaps 
Lightship heard the three horses racing after her at 
this suddenly increased speed and did not like it. She 
shut up in the last few strides and jumped short, pitch- 
ing her young rider on his head on to the opposite 
bank. Stewart heard exclamations of annoyance all 
round him, and then a cry of horror. Eothen had 
come up and jumped on to Dudley Merivale, falling 
and rolling over him. Only by being pulled aside in 
a desperate swerve which landed him in the water did 
Table-Turner avoid jumping on to the top of the 
other two. Both horses were being ridden with the 
sole object of worrying Lightship’s rider and making 
him lose his nerve in the last half-mile. Neither 
Lawson nor James had calculated on his falling at 
the water, and both were close behind him. The two 
professionals, who understood falling as thoroughly 
as they understood all other details of their business, 
rolled away unhurt, and the crowd in the stands saw 
them rise, drag up their horses, and try to remount. 
But the other figure lay very still on the bank of 
the water. 

Geoffrey and Hopper jumped down from their 
places and ran across the course to meet the ambulance 
which was being carried in. One look Stewart flashed 
at the American as they ran side by side, and Hopper 
cowered before its threatening indignation. There 
would be no mercy for him now ; even he saw that 
entreaties and bribes would be alike useless here. 
Geoffrey could not think, and scarcely knew what he 
was doing. He ran on, wild to hear the news from 
the advancing ambulance ; and he moved a little side- 
ways in mere instinctive repugnance of his companion. 


272 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


Some one — a doctor, apparently — who had come 
out of the paddock at a point nearer to the advancing 
party, came up to it at this moment. Geoffrey saw 
the ambulance stop and the newcomer bend down 
over it; then for a moment a hedge interposed, and 
by the time he had scrambled through it the doctor 
had moved away and was speaking to some one. Per- 
haps, after all, the case was not so very serious. 
Presently Geoffrey and his companion came up with 
the other party, and Geoffrey pointed gaspingly to 
the covered-up ambulance. “ Is it serious ? '' he 
asked. 

The doctor looked at the two men, vaguely aware 
that he knew them by sight. “ Are you any relation 
to the gentleman ? ’’ he asked cautiously. 

“We are great friends of his; pray tell us the 
truth.” 

“ The accident was a very serious one, as I daresay 
you saw. Pm afraid it has proved fatal.” 

“ You mean he is dead ! ” 

“ He must have been killed instantly. That will 
be some consolation to his relatives. He must have 
broken his neck when his horse threw him. Another 
horse jumped on to him and rolled over him, but I 
think — indeed Pm sure he was killed by his own fall. 
I don’t think — ” the doctor put a detaining hand on 
Hopper’s arm as he approached near to the ambulance 
— “ I don’t think you had better see him. The second 
part of the accident could not have hurt him, but it — it 
was rather a terrible business.” 

Hopper drew back with an ashen face and looked 
at Geoffrey for further suggestions. In answer to a 
question, together with an assurance that they were the 
nearest friends of Mr. Merivale who were there present, 
the doctor told them what he proposed to do, and 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


273 


Stewart decided that his duty was to go up to London 
and tell Helen what had happened. “ I will come too,” 
said Hopper nervously. “ You have no objection to 
my coming, I suppose ? ” 

“ As you please,” said the other coldly. “ I shall 
tell the whole story of what happened exactly as I 
heard and saw it, and you can stand by and contradict 
as much as you please.” 

No other word was spoken between the two men 
until they arrived in London, when Hopper muttered 
something about hoping that the evening papers had 
not yet published the story. Geoffrey made no reply, 
and they drove together to Park Street. Being in- 
formed here that Lady Helen had gone to Cornwall 
House for the afternoon and evening, they followed 
her there, Geoffrey wondering for a brief moment 
whether he would be refused admission. But St. Ives 
was in the hall, and Geoffrey, catching sight of him 
as he stood on the doorstep, ran up to him, saying in 
a hasty whisper : “ I have not come on my own busi- 
ness. I have terrible news for you and poor Helen. 
Merivale was riding at Warwick this afternoon ; his 
horse fell at the water, and he was thrown on his 
head and killed. You had better tell her, and let her 
know that I am here in case she wants to ask any 
more questions.” 

“ She has just gone across to Sheffield House to 
take Maura there,” said St. Ives in a frightened under- 
tone ; “ she will be back in ten minutes. And Mr. 
Hopper? He is come with you because ?” 

'' He was with me at Warwick. I have a serious 
story to communicate to you with regard to him. 
Practically, he was responsible for Merivale’s death. I 
have not the slightest hesitation in saying that. He 
had given orders to the jockeys who were riding two 


2/4 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


horses belonging to him in the race, that they were 
to follow the mare which Merivale was riding, and 
worry her in every possible way. Merivale knew 
this and lost his nerve and blundered. It is an abom- 
inable story.’’ 

“ You are a fair man. Lord St. Ives, and will not 
believe a tale of that kind without hearing my story. 
What Mr. Stewart has just said is an absolute lie. 
I wanted my two horses to beat Lightship, and the 
trainer’s orders — not mine — were that my two were 
to lie somewhere behind Lightship till the last fence, 
and then try to beat her in the straight. Those are 
very common riding orders, as you must be aware. 
Mr. Stewart’s story is nonsense, most scandalous and 
disgraceful nonsense too.” 

“ I have absolute proof of it,” said Geofirey. 
“ Moreover, as I am going to tell you, it is not the 
first time that Mr. Hopper’s eccentric behaviour on 
the turf has come to my knowledge.” 

Hopper folded his arms, leaned against a table, 
and awaited the confession with an amused smile. In 
more than one country of the world where he had 
passed portions of his life he would have had a revolver 
in his pocket, and in that case he would have shot 
the present speaker. Not having one now, he had 
to content himself with the knowledge that Mr. Stewart 
was committing suicide. 

The butler came into the hall and Geofirey asked : 
'‘May we all come into your study? The matter 
might as well be kept as private as possible. Perhaps 
we might ask to be told directly Helen comes in.” 

“ I have no particular desire for secrecy,” said 
Hopper with a noisy laugh. “ The story which your 
young friend is going to tell you is that last May 
he found out that I had been trying to square one 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


275 

or two jockeys who were going to ride in the Derby. 
I wanted your horse, Midnight, to win, and adopted the 
method which we adopt quite openly in America, and 
which you use quite as freely but rather more quietly 
over here. Mr. Stewart heard of what I had done 
and proposed to tell you, so I bribed him to hold his 
tongue. I don’t know why he’s so proud of having 
taken the bribe that he wants to tell you about it now. 
For myself, it isn’t a transaction of which I am par- 
ticularly proud, because I paid the young man a million 
pounds to hold his tongue, and I expect he would 
have taken half. However, if he wants the story 
known, I’ve no great objection to telling it. My rooms 
will be full for the next year of blackmailers and 
cadgers like your young friend here, demanding any 
sum on earth from half a crown to half a million ; 
but I suppose the porters at Claridge’s can hire some 
extra chuckers-out and rid me of them. This is the 
other ‘ proof ’ of my ‘ eccentric ’ behaviour which Mr. 
Stewart is going to give you.” 

“ And this,” said St. Ives in a very low voice, with 
his eyes just raised to the level of Geoffrey’s knees, 
is the secret? ” 

Geoffrey nodded '' Yes.” “ I meant to tell it you 
this week in any case,” he said. 

“ That,” said Hopper, “ is a lie. You came to 
see me at Warwick this afternoon simply to get more 
money out of me to hold your tongue, and you had 
not the ” 

St. Ives waved the American aside with a move- 
ment of his hand, and raised his eyes to Geoffrey’s 
face. “ Were you going to tell me or not? ” 

I give you my word of honour that, whatever 
happened, I should have told you this week. The 
secret had become perfectly intolerable. My life was 


276 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


a prolonged piece of torture, and as a mere matter 
of satisfaction to myself I should have told you about 
it. I can repay Mr. Hopper nearly all the money 

immediately, and the balance ” 

“ I will pay the balance for you, of -course,” said 
St. Ives quite quietly. “ It is not a pleasant story. 
I do not profess to like hearing it, but at least I am 
glad you’ve told me. Here is Helen.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


The eyes of the three spectators were turned to 
the door as Lady Helen came in, and there was a 
moment of hesitation among them, as though each 
wished the other to undertake the inevitable task. 
However, it was obviously Lord St. Ives’s duty, and 
he went forward to meet her. The woman’s face 
flamed scarlet as she caught sight of Geoffrey standing 
in conversation with her father. What was he telling 
him? During the last few months she had begun to 
mistrust this man, who, to her mind, had formerly 
been the only trustworthy person in the world. St. 
Ives took her into his study, and the two men, standing 
in dead silence in the hall, could hear the murmur of 
his voice. Presently St. Ives came out and asked 
Stewart to go into the room. Helen wished to speak 
to him. 

“ I don’t quite know,” said Hopper, as the young 
man reluctantly went on his errand and the door was 
shut, “ why I should calmly allow an outrageous 
slander about myself to be repeated to one of my 
best friends. With your lordship’s permission I shall 
go in there too.” 

“ No.” St. Ives glanced at the American financier 
with a look which told him that his life in London 
was over. “ My daughter has expressed no desire 
to see you.” 

“ But I desire to see her.” 


277 


278 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


“ The house is mine, Mr. Hopper.” 

“ Lord St. Ives, I am being slandered, at this 
moment, in a fashion which I will not stand. For 
purposes of his own, which you can now easily under- 
stand, Mr. Stewart wishes to take away my character 
with all my friends. I do not mean to stand that. 
You must allow me to go in and contradict the story 
which is being told to Lady Helen. I insist.” 

“ The house is mine, Mr. Hopper, and you will 
not, I feel sure, compel me to assert my ownership 
in any unpleasant way. Also, on behalf of Lady 
Helen, who is my daughter, I must take the liberty 
of denying your statement that you and she are friends. 
I assure you that is not the case.” 

“ Lady Helen proposes to break off several friend- 
ships this afternoon, if I am to believe your lordship. 
She will refuse, if I understand you right, to be friends 
with me any longer; and surely I may assume that 
she will decline any further acquaintance with a 
swindling blackmailer such as you’ve just discovered 
Mr. Stewart to be.” 

“ I cannot hold out any hope that she will put 
you and Mr. Stewart in the same category. Indeed, 
Mr. Hopper, my patience is not illimitable, and I 
must ask you to leave the house.” 

I am to go away and tell the story of my trans- 
actions with Mr. Stewart to everybody in London ? ” 

“ That is as you please,” said St. Ives ; but his 
face blanched a little and his voice shook. “ I am not 
concerned to deny that you hold vengeance in your 
hand. That such vengeance will hurt you as much 
as my relation and myself, must, of course, be obvious 
to you ; when you accuse Mr. Stewart of having taken 
a bribe from you your audience will naturally ask 
why you paid him the bribe, and you will find that 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


279 


in England your explanation will not be well received. 
Neither of you will come very well out of the wrangle ; 
but I do not think that, in the end, you will be the 
best off. However, that is entirely your own affair.” 

“ No doubt your lordship would like the story 
kept dark, between you and him and me.” 

“ I should like it, there is no denying that ; and 
I think that both of you would benefit by it. Also ” 
— the marquis looked long and steadily at his com- 
panion, debating something in his mind; confidences 
made to Mr. Hopper were made at some risk, and 
this one was rather a delicate affair — “ also, if my 
eyes haven’t deceived me, there is another person 
involved in the case who might suffer as much as 
either of you.” 

The American stared at St. Ives for a moment or 
two without comprehension ; then his face was lit up 
slowly by successive flashes of intelligence and gleams 
of satisfaction. “ You mean my daughter? ” he asked. 
“You have noticed something between them? So 
have I, my lord. Perhaps we can arrange this matter 
amicably after all. I tell you fairly I should be 
delighted if the match came off, and I’m not at all 
sure that in that case any financial arrangements need 
be disturbed. Couldn’t you drop a hint of this to 
Mr. Stewart? He would be pleased enough, I should 
think, to keep the matter quiet.” 

St. Ives studied the American silently for a moment. 
Indignation and explanation would be entirely thrown 
away here. “ I think,” he said quietly, “ we had better 
not put the matter quite so bluntly to our young 
friend. It might even be well to let him repay the 
large sum which you have paid him, and to treat his 
possible engagement to your daughter as quite a 
separate affair, having nothing to do with his retention 


28 o 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


of the bribe. He might — one never knows how these 
young men will take things connected with their love 
affairs — he might be almost indignant at the notion 
that he was being invited to marry Miss Hopper in 
order to hush up the present scandal.” 

Hopper eyed the speaker doubtfully. The faintest 
inflection of sarcasm in his voice implied that there 
was a double meaning in his words, but Hopper could 
not make out what it was. The statement seemed by 
itself to be silly, but possible ; Mr. Hopper had found 
Geoffrey to be thoroughly unbusiness-like, and St. 
Ives apparently held the same opinion of his kinsman. 
However, at the present moment he had something 
else to do than to investigate the hidden meaning of 
a cynical speech. He was concerned to secure safety 
for himself in London society, or at least an orderly 
and honourable retreat. 

“ Shall we agree,” he asked, “ in view of this 
possible marriage, to keep quiet on both sides? And 
about that other affair, which I spoke about to you 
during the summer ; we might hang that up, too, for 
a few months ? ” 

“ Another affair ? I don’t think I remember.” 

“ About Lady Maura. I wrote you a letter ” 

“ Oh, yes, yes, I remember.” Lord St. Ives grew 
contemplative again, and came to the conclusion that 
if he lived alone with this man on a desert island for 
five years he would receive some new shock at least 
once a week. “Yes, I think we may decidedly con- 
sider that matter ' hung up ’ for a few months. If I 
were you I wouldn’t trouble to revive it even then. 
We agree to silence on both sides about the other 
matter? And if I might add a word of advice, it 
would be that you should abstain from helping forward 
this match even by a hint to either side. Match- 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


281 


making is not altogether an easy business. Fm given 
to understand that our sex does not shine in it.” 

Hopper departed with profuse promises of silence 
and discretion, and St. Ives turned back into the hall 
with a look of intense disgust on his face. “ I have 
saved the boy from the worst results of his folly,” he 
murmured to himself ; “ but he will pay for it pretty 
dearly, and indeed he deserves it. I suppose no man 
is quite safe in such temptation, but Fd have backed 
Geoffrey to come safely through it if any one had 
asked me. Yes, Fd have backed him for a large sum. 
Who can tell ? Poverty hurts men ; it takes away 
something from their vitality; it leaves them open at 
all points to anything unpleasant that’s going on, to 
boredom and murder, to the devil and Hopper. I 
shouldn’t like to be poor; I’m not entirely certain 
that I should do what Geoffrey did, but probably I 
should only be waiting for a smaller bribe from a 
pleasanter man. If the fellow explained the situation 
in a series of epigrams and handed me the check with 
a good joke, I expect I should take it. But that 
doesn’t alter the fact that I must scrag this youngster 
for taking it; and, indeed, he deserves scragging for 
taking it from a brute like that — Poor Dudley! 
Poor boy ! If Fd been in power I think I’d have 
only just broken his arm or leg, and then given him 
another chance. I hope he’ll get another chance 
somewhere. I suppose Fd better go now and inter- 
rupt this conversation. Good Lord! is that Helen 
laughing? ” 

Stewart had gone into the room where Helen was 
standing, expecting to be asked for details of the 
accident, and prepared with an indignant narrative 
of the race. He had begun by a few commonplace 
iwords of sorrow at bringing such a terrible story 


282 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


to her, and had hardly been surprised to notice that 
she was not listening. At last he asked whether St. 
Ives had told her how it had all happened, and, if 
not, would she like to know? 

The woman very slightly shrugged her shoulders. 
“ I suppose I must know some time,'^ she said. “ It 
was in a race, wasn’t it, and he was riding that horse 
of Jim Seton’s? Why on earth did he do that? He 
could ride no better than Angela. What happened 
exactly ? ” 

Geoffrey repeated the story, but in the middle of 
it he saw that his companion was barely listening. 
He stopped abruptly, but she took no notice, and 
her thoughts were evidently elsewhere. When she 
spoke it was not to ask him to go on. 

“ I thought,” she said, “ when I came into the hall 
just now, that you were telling father what we had 
planned on Sunday. I don’t know why I should think 
anything so silly, especially as Mr. Hopper was there.” 

Geoffrey looked at her in blank amazement, with 
his mouth open and a suspicion forming itself slowly 
in his mind that the woman was not quite sane. 
Indeed, the border-line between selfishness and in- 
sanity is not always visible to the naked eye. 

‘*‘You think me very brutal? You think I might 
show ‘ a little proper feeling,’ even if my real and only 
sensation is unmitigated relief? You would like me 
to search my mind for all Dudley’s good points, for 
any quality of his which might have been a virtue in 
another minute, especially if I had helped him? No, 
my friend. I’m not going to do that. I hated him 
too much; and if I began murmuring that he was a 
good sort, and that after all I was sorry he was gone 
and should be glad to have him back, Providence 
might take me at my word. As a rule, I agree with 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


283 


the French proverb about ‘ putting only wreaths on 
open graves/ but there are exceptions to every rule, 
and this is one of the exceptions. There will be a 
funeral, I suppose, and the children and I must go 
to it, and we must dress ourselves in black for a few 
months, and I will behave as decently as I can ; but 
to you and father and the others I am not going to 
make any nonsensical pretence of being sorry. And, 
Geoffrey ” 

“Well?” She had hesitated for a moment and 
the young man eyed her with cynical amusement. 
“ Do you want me to dance at the funeral, or arrange 
some fireworks ? ” he asked. 

“ No. Only I was thinking — I said 1 would go 
into decent mourning for a few months ; but — at the 
end of those months ? ” 

“Yes? You will have fireworks, and you want 
them ordered now? I am at your service.” 

“ No; but — will you keep your promise?” 

“ On my word, Helen, Fm not very squeamish ; 
but this is a bit too strong even for me to swallow. 
Don’t you think we might put off this discussion, 
say for a week ? ” 

Lady Helen turned sharply away and walked to 
the window, where she stood for some minutes in* 
silence, with her hands clinched and shrugging her 
shoulders at intervals. Geoffrey wondered if he might 
be allowed to escape. She came back, however, and 
stood in front of him again, and looked him over 
calmly. 

“ I don’t think,” she said, “ that I ever saw any one 
so much the worse for a piece of good fortune as you 
are. You seem to have lost all power of speaking 
straightforwardly or advising sensibly. You think 
about nothing but yourself and your own pleasures, 


284 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


and you don’t seem to think about those pleasures 
to much purpose, because you never have any. If I 
were you I would build a Home for Lost Cats with 
that money, and come back and be father’s secretary 
again. Probably Patricia Hopper wouldn’t marry you 
if you did that, but everybody would like you again. 
However, perhaps when you’re married you will 
recover ; uncertainty is very demoralizing. Why don’t 
you propose and get it over? I don’t think you have 
any unkind answers to fear either from Miss Patricia, 
or her parent, or Miss Frances, or the curious lady 
in the mauve silk who cries with terror when one 
speaks to her.” 

“ Are you suggesting that I should propose to the 
mauve lady, and ask the consent of Patricia and 
Frances and Mr. Hopper, or propose to Frances and 
ask the others’ consent, or propose to Patricia ? 
Your sentences are involved; and for myself, at the 
present moment, I am equally ready to marry any 
of them.” 

Helen laughed lightly, and the next moment, to 
Geoffrey’s unbounded relief, St. Ives came into the 
room. His look of amazement recalled both to their 
senses, and Helen went out of the room to avoid a 
lecture. 

I suppose we can hardly expect her to be sorry,” 
said St. Ives with some annoyance ; “ but I think we 
had better help her, as far as possible, to behave 
decently. We had better all go down to Warwick 
to-night, as I suppose the funeral will be at Hales. 
I shall speak very seriously to Helen before we go, 
as of course a crowd of people will be watching her 
to see how she takes it ; and, whatever her own feelings 
may be, she can hardly want to show them off to 
amuse the mob of relations who will collect at Hales 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


285 


in the hope of seeing some such exhibition. Do pray 
help her to behave herself.’' 

“ It is not easy,” said Stewart with an angry flash 
in his eyes. 

No.” St. Ives accompanied his word of agree- 
ment with a glance of surprise and disapproval. “ I 
have said that we will go down by the nine o’clock 
train this evening, so perhaps we had better devote 
half an hour to the discussion of your affairs. The 
matter had better be settled as quickly as possible, 
though I am very busy, and not very rich just now.” 

Geoffrey looked up at his companion with such 
remorse and shame in his eyes as made the latter 
speak more kindly. 

“ The chief point is to know how much is left of 
the money. Hopper must have a check for the whole 
amount this week. I heard something about your 
winning a large sum at Derby the other day; is 
it true ? ” 

Yes, I won over £25,000, and I have got a good 
bit of the last quarter’s income left. Also, the house 
in Park Street ought to fetch pretty well what I paid 
for it, and the repairs at Ince Weston have not gone 
very far. I hope and believe that you will not have 
to lend me much.” 

The information about the turf winnings annoyed 
St. Ives, and he answered sharply: “You seem to 
forget that the man must be paid half a year’s income 
on his money as well as the principal ; and as for 
‘ lending ’ you the money — well, the word does not 
seem to me to describe the situation very exactly. 
And you have signed a contract, I suppose, with 
various architects, builders, furnishing people, and so 
on about the repairs at Ince Weston? Yes? And 
you have paid part of the money and undertaken to 
19 


286 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


pay the rest? Yes? Well, then, of course, we are 
liable for the whole amount, and in the present state 
of trade builders don’t hand you back a small fortune 
because you ask them.” 

Geoffrey’s anger at St. Ives’s tone was swallowed 
up in alarm at this new view of the case. St. Ives 
sat down at a table with a pencil and piece of paper, 
and the two men compiled a rough list of liabilities, 
whose net total made the marquis sit on in silence, 
biting the pencil-top and looking very concerned. 

“ There certainly will be one money-‘ lending * 
transaction in the case,” he said bitterly, “ and I shall 
be the borrower. There’s no hope for it, I suppose. 
Reproaches do no good to anybody, so I won’t begin 
asking you questions or telling you what the world 
says about such a transaction as yours. Hopper 
rushed you into it, I suppose, without giving you time 
to think? Something was going wrong on that par- 
ticular day, and you wanted some money desperately 
badly? Was that the kind of thing?” 

“ The only fact I can tell you, in alleviation, is that 
I came up to London on that Monday morning when 
the business took place, meaning to tell you at once 
about Hopper’s offer to Cater, and then to go and 
tell Hopper that I had told you. Seton was at the 
station with his brougham and offered me a lift if I 
was going towards the city, so I decided to see Hopper 
first. Then Hopper offered me this bribe, and I 
accepted it, on the suddenest, maddest impulse which 
I ever had in my life. But, you see, my being there 
at all was the merest accident.” 

A dangerous doctrine, Geoffrey.” St. Ives 
looked at the young man with a little regret, as though 
something were missing from his former secretary 
which he had believed to be there. I do not believe 


A FOOL’S YEAR 


287 


much in impulses myself. One decides things hastily — 
on the spot, very often — but the decision which takes 
twenty seconds is the result of twenty years of self- 
discipline and self-training. If I dismiss a man in a 
rage one morning, it is my fault for having indulged 
in rages on a thousand other mornings. An impulse 
is only the climax of a year’s thought; when it turns 
out to be wrong, I wouldn’t blame the impulse, but 
repent of the previous year. Now let’s come to 
dinner.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Newmarket Heath was alive under the light of 
another May-day sun, and Geoffrey and Patricia stood 
together watching the horses canter down to the post 
for the Two Thousand Guineas. 

“ Fm rather glad you’ve told me about it,” said 
the girl. “ Father would have been sure to tell me 
himself one day, and I shouldn’t have liked that. What 
difference can it make to me ? However much I love 
you, I should hardly believe that you would not just 
consider the possibility of taking such a bribe. And 
it does seem to me that it wasn’t going very much 
further to take it for a little time and then give it 
back. Does that sound rather dishonest? Well, 
you see, as I am father’s daughter, I can hardly be 
expected to be perfectly straight ! ” 

“ You are only trying to find excuses for me,” said 
Geoffrey, looking at her anxiously. You mind it a 
great deal, really, don’t you? Tell me the truth.” 

The girl hesitated for a moment and then reluctantly 
nodded. ‘‘ But it is done with,” she said ; “ don’t let’s 
talk about it any more. You behaved rather badly 
for six months, and then you spent the next six months 
trying as hard as you could to put it right again. It 
was not a very wise year, but it is over.” 

Lady Helen Merivale called out to Mr. Stewart 
to come and stand by her while the race was going 
on, and tell her what was happening. Patricia put 
288 


A FOOL’S YEAR 289 

two fingers detainingly on his arm and he stood 
still. 

“ I am afraid,” he said, turning to Helen, “ I’m 
already engaged to do the same thing to some one 
else.” 

Helen flashed a look of rage at the pair, and then 
turned to a little group behind her. “ Then I must 
take the next best guide,” she said. “ Do come and 
stand by me, Mr. Hopper, and tell me what is hap- 
pening in this race.” 

Cyrus Hopper came forward eagerly and took a 
place by her side. “ I am proud,” he said. “ What- 
ever the excuse is for standing here, and for however 
short or long a time you may need me, I am always 
ready.” 

Helen watched the race without seeing it, and 
listened to the comments without hearing them. Then 
she answered Mr. Hopper’s remark with a smiling 
whisper : “ One of these days, perhaps, I may put 
your patience to the most severe test of all.” 


THE END 








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218. Marietta's Marriage. By W. E# 

Norris. 

219. Dear Faustina. By R. Broughton. 

220. Nulrna. By Mrs. Campbell Praed. 

221. The Folly of Pen Harrington. By 

J. Sturgis. 

222. A Colonial Free-Lance. By C. C. 

Hotchkiss. 

223. His Maiesty's Greatest Subject. By 

S. S. Thorburn. 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY HERKRY.— {Continued.) 


224. Mifanwy : A Welsh Singer. By A. 

Kaine. 

225. A Soldier of Manhattan. By J. A. 

Altshelbr. 

226. Fortune's Footballs. By G. B. 

Burgik. 

227. The Clash of Arms. By J. Bloun- 

DEIiLE-BURTON. 

228. God's Foundling. By A. J. Daw- 

son. 

229. Miss Providence. By D. Gerard. 

230. The Freedom of Henry Meredyth. 

By M. Hamilton. 

231. Sweethearts and Friends. By M. 

Gray. 

232. Sunset. By B. Whitby. 

233. A Fiery Ordeal. By Tasma. 

234. A Prince of Mischance. ByT. Gal- 

lon. 

235. A Passionate Pilgrim. By P. 

SIXB 

236. This Little World. By D. C. Mur- 

ray. 

237. A Forgotten Sin. By D. Gerard. 

238. The Incidental Bishop. By G. 

Allen. 

239. The Lake of Wine. By B. Capes. 

240. A Trooper of the Empress. By C. 

Ross. 

241. Torn Sails. By A. Raine. 

242. Materfamilias. By A. Cambridge. 

243. John of Strathbourne. By R. D. 

Chetwode. 

244. The Millionaires. By F. F. Moore. 

245. The Looms of Time. By Mrs. H. 

A fl P] R 

246. The Queen's Cup. By G. A. Henty. 

247. Dicky Monteith. By T. Gallon. 

248. The Lust of Hate. By G. Boothby. 

249. The Gospel Writ in Steel. By Ar- 

thur Paterson. 

250. The Widower. By W. E. Norris. 

251. The Scourge of God. By J. 

Bloundelle-Burton. 

252. Concerning Isabel Carnaby. By 

Ellen Thorneycropt Fowler. 

253. The Impediment. By D. Gerard. 

254. Belinda— and Some Others. By 

Ethel Maude. 

255. The Key of the Holy House. By 

Albert Lee. 

256. A WHter of Books. ByG. Paston. 

257. The Knight of the Golden Chain. 

By R. D. Chetwode. 

258. Eicroft of Withens. By Halli- 

WELL Sutcliffe. 

259. The Procession of Life. By Hor- 

ace A. Vachell. 

280. By Berwen Banks. By A. Raine. 

261. Pharos, the Egyptian. By Guy 

Boothby. 

262. Paml Carah, Cornishman. By 

Charles Lee. 


263. Pursued by the Law. By J. Mao- 

Laren Cobban. 

264. Madame Izdn. By Mrs. Camp- 

bell-Praed. 

265. Fortune's my Foe. By J. Bloun- 

delle-Burton. 

266. A Cosmopolitan Comedy. By 

Anna Robeson Brown. 

267. The Kingdom of Hate. By T. 

Gallon. 

268. The Game and the Candle. By 

Rhoda Broughton. 

269. Dr. Nikola's Experiment. By 

Guy Boothby. 

270. The Strange Story of Hester 

Wynne. By G. Colmore. 

271. Lady Barbainty. By J. C. Snaith. 

272. A Bitter Heritage. By John 

Bloundelle-Burton. 

273. The Heiress of the Season. By Sir 

William Magnay, Bart. 

274. A Voyage at AncJwr. By W. 

Clark Russell. 

275. The Idol of the Blind. By T. 

Gallon. 

276. A Comer of the West. By Edith 

Henrietta Fowler. 

277. The Story of Ronald Kestrel. By 
A. J. Dawson. 

278. The World's Mercy. By M. Gray. 

279. The Gentleman Pensioner. By 

A T I .TPIT* 

280. A Maker of Nations. By Guy 

Boothby. 

281. Mirry-Ann. By Norma Lorimer. 

282. The Immortal Garland. By Anna 

Robeson Brown. 

283. Garthowen. By Allen Raine. 

284. The Lunatic at Large. By J. 

Storer Clouston. 

285. The Seafdrers. By John Bloun- 

delle-Burton. 

286. The Minister's Guest. By Isabel 

Smith. 

287. The Last Sentence. By M. Gray. 

288. Brown of Lost River. By Mary 

E. Stickney. 

289. The Jay-Hawkers. By Adela E. 

Orpen. 

290. The Flower of the Flock. By W. 

E. Norris. 

291. A Private Chivalry. By Francis 

Lynde. 

292. King Stork of the Netherlands. 

By Albert Lee. 

293. Path and Goal. By Ada Cam- 

bridge. 

294. My Indian Queen. By Guy 

Boothby. 

295. A Hero in Homespun. By Wm. E. 

Barton. 

296. A Royal Exchange. By J. Mac- 

Laren Cobban. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK, 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY UERhlXY .-{Continued.) 


297. The Claim Jumpers. By Stewart 

Edward White. 

298. The Mystery of the Clasped Hands. 

By Gut Boothbt. 

299. From the Unsounded Sea. By 

Nellie K. Blissett. 

800. The Seal of Silence. By Arthur 
R. CONDKR. 


301. Four-Leaved Clover. By Max- 

well Gray. 

302. A Woman Alone. By Mre. W. K. 

Clifford. 

303. When Love Flies Out o’ the Win- 

dow. By Leonard Merrick. 

304. The Devastators. By Ada Cam- 

bridge. 


“ In Appletons’ Town and Country Library a poor book has not yet been pub- 
lished.’ ’ — Toledo Bee. 

“The high average of merit maintained in the Town and Country series 
is very noticeable.’’— Telegraph. 

“ You are always sure of being thoroughly entertained whenever you make a 
selection from Appletons’ Town and Country Library .’’ — Boston Herald. 

“ It is surprising how good an average is maintained by the Appletons in their 
series of current fiction known as the Town and Country Library.’’— 

Free Press. 

“ In selecting books for summer reading, one may always feel sure of getting 
something worth reading if they are of Appletons’ Town and Country Library.” 
— Boston Times. 

“ The fact that it is one of the Town and Country Library is a guarantee of 
its excellence, as only the choicest and best stories are selected for this series.” 
—Dubuque Herald. 

“ This series is one of most remarkable excellence, and its reputation has be- 
come such that it is by no means an easy matter to find just the work to keep it 
up to its standard.”— Traveller. 

“The assured excellence of D. Appleton and Company’s Town and Country 
Library is a great assistance in purchasing the light literature which is a part of 
the necessary equipment for travel or for the summer months in the country.” 
— Chicago Elite. 

“ The publishers of the Town and Country Library have been either particularly 
sagacious or very fortunate in the selection of the novels that have appeared in 
this excellent series. No one is lacking in positive merit, and the majority are 
much above the average fiction of the day. Any person who likes a good story 
well told can buy any issue in the Town and Country Library with the utmost con- 
fidence of finding something well worth while .” — Boston Beacon. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


NEW "TOWN AND COUNTRY" NOVELS, 

Each, J2mo, cloth, $L00 ; paper, 50 cents. 


When Love Flies Out o* the Window. By 


Leonard Merrick. 

Mr. Merrick has the art of writing a thoroughly interesting story, which in this case 
pictures certain phases of stage life in London and m America. Ihe influence of a 
woman’s loyalty in bringing success to another is a motive developed so graphical^ 
and sympathetically that the purely human i^ama holds the interest throughout. Ihe 
author’s vivacity and cleverness in characterization impart a lightness of touch and a 
humor to his story that add materially to its entertaining quality. 


A Woman Alone. By Mrs. W. K. Clifford, author 
of “ Love Letters of a Worldly Woman.” 

“ As good as a sermon, but with the element of realism that makes it appeal to the 
reader more than the average sermon would.” — Wilmington (Del.) News. 

” Mrs. Clifford is an adroit writer, whose knowledge of the world and whose bril- 
liancy have not destroyed in her a simple tenderness to which every sensitive reader 
must respond.” — Chicago Tribune. 


Four-Leaved Clover. An Every-day Romance. By 
Maxwell Gray, author of “ The Silence of Dean Mait- 
land.” 

“ It is the story of a woman’s devotion, and is sure to please.” — New York Com- 
mercial Advertiser. 

“ The tale is most cleverly worked out, and the interest is held until ‘finis’ comes.” 
^Detroit Journal. 

“ Maxwell Gray has again written a clever, useful story, full of truths agreeably 
spoken.” — Spokane (Wash.) Spokesman-Review. 

“ The interest of the book centers in Marcia. She is a masterpiece of insight, un- 
derstanding, and appreciation. As a study of feminine possibilities the book deserves 
a high rank.” — St. Louis Post-Dispatch. 


The Seal of Silence. By Arthur R. Conder. 

“ A really remarkable novel. It is full of quiet humor, keen characterization, and a 
certain freshness which is all too rare among the novels of the day.” — Baltimore Sun. 

” It is seldom one lays down a book with a feeling of such genuine friendliness 
toward writer and story. ... It runs so easily, in such a natural, unforced style, that 
the delight increases with every page.” — Chicago Journal. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


RECENT FICTION, 


Some Women I have Known. 

By Maarten Maartens, author of “God’s Fool,” etc. With 
Frontispiece. 1 2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“Maarten Maartens stands head and shoulders above the average novelist 
of the day in intellectual subtlety and imaginative power .” — Boston Beacon. 

The Wage of Character. 

By JuLiEN Gordon, author of “ Mrs. Clyde,” etc. With Por- 
trait. izmo. Cloth, ^1.25. 

Julien Gordon’s new novel is a story of the world of fashion and intrigue, 
written with an insight, an epigrammatic force, and a realization of the dra- 
matic and the pathetic as well as more superficial phases of life, that stamp the 
book as one immediate and personal in its interest and convincing in its appeal 
to the minds and to the sympathies of readers. 

The Quiberon Touch. 

A Romance of the Sea. By Cyrus Townsend Brady, author of 
“For the Freedom of the Sea,” “The Grip of Honor,” etc. 
With Frontispiece, izmo. Cloth, 1.50. 

“This story has a real beauty; it breathes of the sea. Fenimore Cooper 
would not be ashamed to own a disciple in the school of which he was master 
in these descriptions of the tug of war as it was in the eighteenth century between 
battle-ships under sail .” — New York Mail and Express. 

Shipmates. 

A Volume of Salt-Water Fiction. By Morgan Robertson, 
author of “ Masters of Men,” etc. With Frontispiece, izmo. 
Cloth, ;^i.5o. 

When Mr. Robertson writes of the sea, the tang of the brine and the snap 
of the sea-breeze are felt behind his words. The adventures and mysteries of 
sea life, the humors and strange complications possible in yachting, the inner 
tragedies of the foks’l, the delightful adventures of Finnegan in war, and the 
original developments in the course of true love at sea, are among the vivid 
pictures that make up a volume so vital in its interests and dramatic in its situa- 
tions, so delightful in its quaint humor and so vigorous and stirring throughout, 
that it will be read by sea lovers for its full flavor of the sea, and by others as a 
refreshing tonic. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


RECENT FICTION. 


The Wilderness Road. 

A Romance of St. Clair’s Defeat and Wayne’s Victory. By J. A. 
Altsheler, author of “In Circling Camps,” “A Herald of the 
West,” etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ It is a clean, clear-cut story, and pitched on the high plane of Cooper 
of the New World and Scott of the Old .” — Louisville Critic. 


His Letters. 

By JuLiEN Gordon, author of “ Mrs. Clyde,” “ A Puritan Pagan,” 
etc. New edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ Bound to rank high in the mass of epistolary literature — fact and 
fiction — which looms in the season’s output of the army of publishers. ” — St. 
Louis Republic. 

The Curious Courtship of Kate Poins. 

By Louis Evan Shipman. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ One of the best-written novels of the year. It will be widely read and 
generally admired. The romance has vigor, tone, and cumulative interest 
that increases as the story ascends to its climax. ” — Philadelphia Item. 

The Luck of the Vails. 

By E. F. Benson, author of “ Dodo,” “ The Rubicon,” “ Mammon 
& Co.” i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ A romance of more than usual charm and grace, and, from the literary 
point of view, of undeniable distinction.” — Boston Advertiser. 

From the Unsounded Sea. 

By Nellie K. Blissett, author of “ The Wisdom of the Simple,” 
etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cents. 

“Once engaged in its pages, the reader will not be likely to leave the 
book until it is finished. ... A skilfully-wrought-out romance of mystery.” — 
Brooklyn Eagle. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


RECENT nCTlON. 


The Man Who Knew Better. 

By T. Gallon, author of Tatterley,” etc. Illustrated by 
Gordon Browne. 8vo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“The best Christmas story that has appeared since the death of Charles 
Dickens. . . . It is an admirably written story, and merits warm welcome and 
broad recognition .” — Baltimore Sun. 

Under the Skylights. 

By Henry B. Fuller, author of “The Chevalier of Pensieri- 
Vani,” “The Cliff Dwellers,’* etc. i 2mo. Deckle edge, gilt 
top, ^1.50. 

The charming humor, delightful flavor, and refined quality of Mr. Fuller’s 
work impart a peculiar zest to this subtly satirical picture of the extraordinary 
vicissitudes of arts and letters in a Western metropolis. 

The Apostles of the Southeast. 

By Frank T. Bullen, author of “The Cruise of the Cachalot,” 
“ Idyls of the Sea,” etc. i zmo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“Mr. Bullen writes with a sympathy and pathetic touch rare indeed. His 
characters are living ones, his scenes full of life and realism, and there is not a 
page in the whole book which is not brimful of deepest interest.” — Phila- 
delphia Item. 

The Alien. 

By F. F. Montresor, author of Into the Highways and 
Hedges,” etc. izmo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“ May be confidently commended to the most exacting reader as an absorb- 
ing story, excellently told .” — Kansas City Star. 

While Charlie Was Away. 

By Mrs. Poultney Bigelow. i6mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

Mrs. Bigelow tells a wonderfully vivid story of a woman in London “smart” 
life whose hunger for love involves her in perils, but finds a true way out in 
the end. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


RECENT nCTION, 


A Nest of Linnets. 

By F. Frankfort Moore, author of “The Jessamy Bride,” 
“A Gray Eye or So,” etc. Illustrated, izmo. Cloth, Jli. 50. 

“That ‘A Nest of Linnets ’ is bright, clever, and well written follows as a 
matter of course, considering that it was written by F. Frankfort Moore.” — 
Philadelphia Telegraph. 

The Eternal City. 

By Hall Caine, author of ‘‘The Christian,’* “The Manx- 
man,” “The Bondman,” “The Deemster,” etc. izmo. 
Cloth, $1.50. 

“ A powerful novel, inspired by a lofty conception, and carried out with 
unusual force. It is the greatest thing that Hall Caine has ever attempted.” — 
Brooklyn Eagle. 

The Teller. 

By Edward Noyes Westcott, author of “David Harum.” 
Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, ^i.oo. 

The publishers of “David Harum” have the pleasure of presenting the 
only other story written by the lamented Edward Noyes Westcott. Mr. West- 
cott’s business life lay with practical financial matters, and in “ The Teller ” he 
has drawn upon his knowledge of life in a bank. 

When Love Flies Out o' the Win- 
dow. 

By Leonard Merrick, i zmo. Cloth, ^i.oo ; paper, 50 cents, 

“The attention of the reader is held from start to finish, because the whole 
plot is original, and one can not tell what is going to happen next.” — fVash- 
ington Times. 

The Beleaguered Forest. 

By Elia W. Peattie. i 2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

“‘The Beleaguered Forest’ is not a novel — it is a romance; it is not a 
romance — it is a poem.” — Chicago Post. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



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JAP 28 1902 

I DEL. TO CAT. DIV, 
'AM. 28 1902 

31 I9U2 




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